


Hate You, Hate Me

by fireflys_locket



Series: I Hate You, Hermione [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-11-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:15:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 29,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflys_locket/pseuds/fireflys_locket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hate you, Hermione. I hate your hair, your friends, and everything about you. But the thing I hate most... is how much I love you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem with Straight Hair

Chapter 1 - The Problem with Straight Hair

_I hate you, Hermione._

I poured the Nova Dust into the cauldron. The shimmering dust sank to the bottom of the large cauldron. I pulled out my wand and mumbled the Ultra Lumos charm into the nearly completed potion. The newly added wisps of light swept the Nova Dust into its swirls, and they turned pink and blue.

I frowned as I watched a year’s worth of work turn into what looked more like a love potion than the serious potion we were supposed to be making. I snatched the age-old scroll out of my partner’s hands, nearly ripping it. I glared down at it trying to see where we might have gone wrong.

The LAWFIES Potion was an extremely advanced potion for discovering one’s element (Light, Air, Water, Fire, Ice, Earth, or Space). Its difficulty resided not so much in the proper mixing, but in the collecting of ingredients. The Silver Water, for instance could only be obtained on Waterfall Island the day after Halloween. We had to camp there overnight. And that was only one of the difficult ingredients. I remember quite well being woken up on one of the coldest nights in December, standing out in damn near freezing weather, and lifting my partner in the air in order to gain the Nova Dust.

“Where’s the unicorn horn, Mudblood?” I asked, turning to look at my partner

Her name was Hermione Granger. She glared angrily at me, but I only smirked at her. It was incredible how easily I could piss her off. One little word could do it… Mudblood.

Mudblood was the name for muggle born witches and wizards. They were wretched pieces of filth that the magical world would do much better without. I had been told that since I was six years old. The beginning of the miserable existence I now lived…

Granger glared at me once again and dropped the unicorn horn into the still cauldron. We put our hands over the potion and echoed, “Release.”

The unicorn horn rose precariously wobbling as it went. It spun seven times before pointing right at Granger. Sparkles that looked very much like leaves shot out at her. She was Earth. In the green light, I could tell she was crying. Those who had studied the potion would know that it was a very common occurrence. She looked lovely. That was another common thing, but it wasn’t out of any book.

_I hate your bushy brown hair when it falls into your chestnut brown eyes._

Granger turned her attention to me and smiled. Her brown hair fell into her soft chestnut eyes. I had to dig my nails into my palms to keep from reaching up and brushing it away for her.

“We did it,” Granger breathed.

I smiled back at her. It wasn’t because I cared… It wasn’t because she looked like a goddess in that light. No, no. I was just relieved. A year of Hell working with Granger had produced something good.

The horn spun around seven more times before stopping in front of me. I held my breath. My light was silvery, and my sparkles were small crystals. I let out my breath. I was Ice.

My father had been worried for the entire year that this potion would have betrayed me. Lucius Malfoy was an extremely powerful dark wizard who currently resided in Azkaban Prison, after all. Or so people thought… Peter Pettigrew was currently playing the part of my father using Polyjuice Potion.

My father had put my training on hiatus in fear that it would affect my results. Too much training in the Dark Arts kills the element within you, replacing it with 8th element. _Darkness._ I was sure that as soon as I arrived home in two days I would begin again. Somehow, though, the icy light comforted me. It told me my life wasn’t set in stone.

Granger seemed to be staring at me as though she was entranced. I figured she was just as surprised as I was that the horn had not exploded. In the quiet stillness of the room, I saw two other surprised faces: Ron Weasley and none other than Harry Potter.

Potter was famous for ‘defeating’ Voldemort, the Dark Lord whose shoes my father kissed on a regular basis. Weasley and Granger were his friends. They were so close it made me feel… sickened. Granger was most definitely the brains of the outfit. She must have explained it to them. As much as I hated to admit it, Granger was _nearly_ as smart as me.

But her book-smarts only get her so far. That’s where I top her.

Something brushed against my leg from behind. I automatically knew what it was. Or who it was, I should say--Pansy Parkinson, better known as my sex slave.

I turned to face her, and she batted her eyelashes at me.

“What do you have planned after the party, Draco?” Pansy purred, seductively.

The 6th years were getting a formal party to celebrate the completion of this insanely difficult potion. However, it seemed that Granger and I were the only ones to finish it. Would _everyone_ else have to redo the potion in 7th year?

“You’ll see,” I said, smiling at her.

For some reason, my eyes caught Granger’s. I wasn’t surprised to see her mouth wide open and looking shocked and repulsed. Pansy noticed as well.

“Jealous, Mudblood?” she asked.

Granger’s eyes snapped shut for a few seconds. When they reopened, I saw nothing but pure calm in them.

I don’t know why, but I wanted to make Granger jealous. I wanted her to be secretly passionately in love with me. I wanted her to have to dig her nails into her palms to keep from grabbing her wand and cursing Pansy to bits and grabbing onto me… and…

Wait.

Where the Hell had that come from?

“Freak,” Pansy spat as Granger rolled her eyes.

Weasley glared at her. He was Pansy’s potion partner and therefore, unfortunately, had to sit behind Granger and me. I always had suspicions that Weasley and Granger were dating. Now, I was almost sure of it. I had to suppress the urge to gag just thinking about it.

Pansy was now trailing lip-gloss over her lips and licking it off suggestively. I was repulsed. There is no worse taste in the world than that wretched stuff, I swear.

Granger was staring at Pansy’s inane attempts to turn me on as well--only she seemed rather amused. I looked back and realized why. I vaguely heard Granger mumble something in the background as Pansy shrieked and jumped up. No damage seemed to have been done to her, but her precious lip-gloss had fallen into the cauldron causing it to explode forward onto Granger and me.

I stood at once trying to shake the potion off of me. Although I was covered in sticky sick-smelling goop, I smiled. At least I was finally rid of that nasty tasting shit… unless that bitch stockpiled the stuff. She probably did… damn…

“PARKINSON, WEASLEY!” Snape bellowed. “DETENTION! TONIGHT!”

I saw a doused Granger mouth, ‘I’m sorry, Ron’ to Weasley.

It occurred to me then that Granger had said some kind of spell that had caused the mishap. I wanted to thank her and kill her at the same time. She might have rid me of the wretched lip-gloss for the time being, but she had completely ruined my plans for the night. I clenched my fists so hard they began to turn... green. In fact, my arms were turning green… and my legs and…

“What the Hell?” I screamed.

The class was laughing hysterically. I looked up to silence them with a glare but found myself looking into Granger’s face instead. She was blood red… And, no, I didn’t mean she was blushing. Just as I had turned green, she had turned red.

“A little late for Christmas,” said some Ravenclaw in between loud annoying snorts of laughter. “Where’s the mistletoe when you need it?”

“SILENCE!” Snape roared.

You could have heard a feather fall to the ground after that. Snape dismissed the rest of the class with a few waves of his hand. Weasley didn’t move.

“Are you all right, Hermione?”

“I’m fine, Ron,” she said, quickly. “But you best go before you get into more trouble.”

“Yeah, Weasley,” I said, smirking. “Your little Mudblood girlfriend is right for once. Or perhaps I should just call her a rodent considering that she looks like a wet rat.”

“Oh, and you look much better, Kermit the frog.”

Potter had worked his way up to us at this point. I didn’t understand his ‘joke’, and from the look on Weasley’s face, neither did he. Her-Granger, however, emitted an uncharacteristically loud laugh. All I knew was he had called me a _frog,_ and I was not going to let him get away with it.

“At least I’m good enough to be wearing Slytherin’s colours, unlike you and your Mudblood friend here.”

Potter and Weasley both went for their wands, but Snape had already taken notice of the scene at the Mudblood’s obnoxious laugh.

“Weasley, get out of here before you’re sentenced to detention for the entirety of your 7th year!” Snape spat.

Weasley gathered his things, but Potter didn’t move.

“Would you like to join your friend in detention, Potter?”

“I want to make sure Hermione is all right,” Potter said, unflinchingly.

“I will take care of it as soon as you leave,” Snape hissed.

Potter stared at him for a few minutes, but then did head for Weasley who was already at the door.

Once they were gone, Snape told us to follow him and brought us into his storage room where we were given potions that tasted _worse_ then Pansy’s lip-shit. Snape assured us that the colour would wear off in a few hours, and we went to fetch our things.

“Thanks, Mudblood,” I growled at Granger as soon as Snape was out of earshot.

She picked up her bag and left humming nonchalantly. I watched her leave with my mouth hanging open. Granger hadn’t said or done anything. Nothing at all… not even the slightest of glares. And I had just realized that I not only looked like a frog, but smelled like one too.

I was way beyond pissed by the time the party started. I had heard every frog joke from Potter and Weasley that there could possibly be. My skin was still tinted green but it was barely noticeable now, especially in the dim lighting of the Great Hall.

I hate how you only straightened it for Scarhead and that Krum bastard, and never for me.

For some reason, my eyes scanned the room looking for Granger. I just wanted one glimpse before I left. The fun of seducing Pansy in front of Granger was gone now. I was about to leave, but then I saw her and my breath caught.

Arm in arm with Potter, she strode in with more grace and dignity than Pansy could ever muster. Her skin was a bit on the pink side and it made me wonder whether it was because of the potion or the many guys that were now staring at her with open mouths. I realized with a jolt that I was one of them.

‘Remember, Draco, it’s only the Mudblood,’ I scolded myself.

But no matter how many times I thought it, my eyes would not tear away from her and her lovely… straight hair. I felt my stomach clench. This was not the first time that this had happened to me, but it was the first time I didn’t have Pansy to take out my longing and frustration on later.

It was the hair… something about it being straight was intoxicating. Last time she had done it was two years ago for Viktor Krum. But neither he nor Weasley was present. It was only then that I saw Granger pass a longing look over at Potter.

I had to repress a scream that threatened to take over my whole being. I needed to kill something… now. I whipped around and stormed out of the Great Hall kicking at a table as I went. No one noticed… except her.

I avoided her gaze as I began running back towards the dungeons, straight through some blundering ghost. There was no way a Mudblood was going to get the best of a Malfoy… even if she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

_I hate how you’re obsessed with books and Potter, but not with more important things... people._


	2. Ignorance is Painful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignorance is Painful: I hate how you walk around like you’re the only creature that has any brains. I hate how the teachers, even Snape, now are under your "spell". I hate how they ignore me now, although I get grades just as good as yours.

Chapter 2 - Ignorance is Painful

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  


_I hate how you walk around like you're the only creature that has any brains._

  
  
I felt quite sick the next morning. Maybe it was because I knew tomorrow I would be traveling to the home of the king of the death eaters. Maybe it was because I still smelt of Pansy's wretched lip-gloss. Maybe it was because I had thrown up three times last night.  
  
I didn't remember being in the shower, but unless there was a rainstorm inside Hogwarts, I must have taken one. By the time I realized this, it was ten o'clock. I was late for class.  
  
I rushed down the long hallway leading to the Potions Classroom. Bits and pieces of excuses spun around in my head. When I tried to put things together, nothing sounded right.  
  
I didn't see Granger in front of me. In fact, I wasn't even aware I had crashed into her until I found myself on the floor. I got up and rubbed my head, trying to remember the makeshift excuse I had finally chosen.  
  
Granger looked up at me from the floor. Her lovely eyes bore into mine. God, I hated that look. My hand stretched out. I couldn't stop myself. She placed her hand on mine. It felt only slightly heavier than a feather and sent chills down my spine.  
  


_I hate how the teachers, even Snape, are under your spell._

  
"Did you hear me?" Granger asked, suddenly.  
  
I jumped. Had she said something? I hadn't been aware of her speaking at all. Damn, I was so out of it.  
  
"Snape let us have all classes off because we were first to finish the potion," Granger said.  
  
"Oh," I mumbled.  
  
I stared at her for a moment, letting it all sink in. Her hair was still straighter than usual, though it had lost much of its magic. Hermione bit her lip, and she looked at me. Perhaps she was to ask me why I ran out of the Great Hall in a huff. I wasn't going to let her have that chance.  
  
Instead of going back to bed, as I probably should have, I wandered the halls aimlessly. On my way to lunch, I found Potter and the female weasel kissing in the hallway. From the looks of Granger's face at lunch, she had seen them too or had at least heard about it.  
  
I happened upon Granger shortly after lunch. I think subconsciously I had been looking for her. I hated to say it, but I felt sorry for the Mudblood. Her pretty face was stained with tears.  
  
"M-Malfoy?" Granger asked.  
  
I nodded weakly. For the perhaps only the second time in my life, a smart remark did not travel to my lips. I had never seen Granger _really_ cry. I might have laughed if it didn't scare me so.  
  
Granger turned away from me and began walking. My hand once again shot out and grasped the arm of her cloak. I yanked her back. She looked up at me with tear-filled brown eyes.  
  
"You okay?" I heard myself say.  
  
She jerked out of my grip, but I caught her arm.  
  
"I'm never okay, Malfoy!" Granger snapped.  
  
The words sent a harpoon through my chest. I could not explain why, but it did.  
  
"W-what?" I asked.  
  
Granger glared at me and began thrashing in my grasp. I, however, was much too strong for her to escape now that I had a good grip on her. Eventually, she ran out of breath.  
  
"Fine," she said with ragged breaths. "What do you want?"  
  
"To know what is wrong with you," I said more softly than I thought was possible.  
  
"More than you would ever be able to guess," Granger hissed. "So, don't bother _pretending_ you care."  
  
In my momentary shock, Granger pulled away from me and began walking quickly down the hallway.  
  
"It's Potter, right?" I shouted after her.  
  
Granger stopped abruptly and whipped around to face me.  
  
"What are you talking about?" she demanded.  
  
"It is... isn't it?" I asked.  
  
Granger opened her mouth, but at that moment, Professor Flitwick rounded the corner.  
  


_I hate how they ignore me now, although I get grades just as good as yours._

  
"Good Afternoon, Miss Granger," he said.  
  
"Hello, Professor," Granger said, giving a weak smile.  
  
He smiled back at her and walked away as though I was invisible. I glared at him and stuck out my middle finger at his receding form. Granger cringed and looked away.  
  
"Sorry," she whispered after a moment.  
  
"What?" I asked, looking stunned.  
  
<"I'm sorry," Granger said, looking back at me. "I know you hate it when they ignore you."  
  
I glared at her. Was she implying that I was jealous of her? HA! Never!  
  
"That's the stupidest thing I have EVER heard," I shouted.  
  
Granger laughed.  
  
"I doubt it," she said with newfound confidence. "You do still hang around with Crabbe and Goyle, right?"  
  
I snorted.  
  
"Yes, I suppose you are right," I said.  
  
It was so strange. We were talking and laughing as though we were friends. And I... I liked it. I had to get out of there!  
  
I began walking away.  
  
"Wait – I wanted to ask you something." Granger called after me.  
  
"Ask away," I said, fully intending on ignoring every word.  
  
“Are you scared?”  
  
I stopped and snorted again, turning.  
  
"What the Hell would I be scared of exactly, Granger?" I asked.  
  
"7th year," she said.  
  
"Why?" I asked.  
  
"I am," Granger continued. "I'm afraid I won't make Head Girl."  
  
I laughed.  
  
"You not make Head Girl?" I asked. "Please..."  
  
I began walking, and she followed suit.  
  
"I probably won't," Granger said. "I've been so busy studying about the LAWFIES Potion that I haven't spent _nearly_ enough time on anything else."  
  
"God, Granger, you are really stupid sometimes," I snapped.  
  
Granger stopped, but I kept going. If she wanted to keep talking, she didn’t show it.  
  
I made my way to the library. If I wanted to get away from Granger, this was not the place to go.  
  
Maybe you don't want to get away from her.  
  
What the Hell was that? As if I would ever want to be near Granger... much.  
  
Damn it... what was wrong with me?  
  
Granger entered the room looking even less stable than before. She looked over at me and seemed to consider coming over... but changed her mind. I let out a breath that I had no clue I had been holding.  
  
This same situation happened several times before during the next hour. I spent most of the time staring at Granger while pretending to read a book that I later realized I had been holding upside down. How cliché. I finally did tire of watching her and decided to go outside before I did something stupid... like talking to her.  
  
The air smelled of summer. The warm sun beat down on my frozen body. I refused to let it in. I had done so once before, and I’ve never regretted anything more.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle were sitting near the lake looking exhausted. They had no doubt just finished their exams and were in need of a good rest. I felt like I had just taken my exams although I had finished mine well over a week ago. My exhaustion was derived from one very annoying little Mudblood.  
  
It felt more like an attack than an exam, however.  
  
A few stray clouds covered the sun, and I felt a cool breeze flutter my robes as I sat down next to the closest thing I had to Granger's Potter and Weasley - Crabbe and Goyle. They immediately invited me to join them in their snacking on some pastries they had pilfered from some Ravenclaw brat.  
  
I took one and regretted it at once upon biting it. My stomach felt sick from the sweet taste I had encountered. I decided to go about eating it slowly. No reason to waste it, after all. And I didn’t want Crabbe and Goyle to realize something was wrong. Which they did anyway... eventually.  
  
"Worried about exams, Draco?" asked Goyle, with his mouth full of cake.  
  
"You’ll make Head Boy, don’t worry about that," Crabbe added in a very mumbled voice.  
  
"Oh, I don’t care about that!" I snapped.  
  
The two swallowed instantly. I found it incredibly annoying that all anyone seemed to care about at the moment was all this Head Boy/Head Girl nonsense. Didn’t anyone realize that I was returning to the king of the death eaters tomorrow? Or that I was getting quite sick from the addition of pastry to my already upset stomach? Or that I was under serious attack from Hermione Granger?  
  
"We didn't mean to make you mad," Crabbe said. "We were just wondering."  
  
"You've been spending so much time on that LAWFIES Potion this year that you've barely had time for anything else," Goyle said. "We've found exactly 12 secret passages since we last talked."  
  
I knew they were exaggerating, but I still almost felt bad for them. I really was all they had at this school. And while I was certain I would be fine without them, I wondered if they might need someone to cling to in order to function properly.  
  
"But are you really ready to spend another year with Granger anyway?"  
  
I flinched. It was something I hadn’t even considered. If I did make Head Boy, Granger and I would be spending a lot of time together. Not only would we be in charge of various tasks together, but we would also be sharing a common room.  
  
"And worse, she'll always be bringing that Weasley to stay with her," Crabbe added, snickering.  
  
I choked on the last bit of pastry.  
  
"What the Hell are you talking about, Crabbe?" I barked once I had swallowed.  
  
"You haven't heard?" Crabbe asked, looking shocked. "I can't believe Pansy didn't tell you."  
  
"Heard what?!" I demanded.  
  
"Apparently, they've been sleeping together since that little trip to Waterfall Island," he answered.  
  
"And where did you hear that?" I laughed. "Sounds like some crazy rumor to me."  
  
Goyle shook his head.  
  
"Pansy saw her sneak into his tent in the middle of the night," he explained.  
  
"Nonsense," I mumbled. "I would have heard her. She was stationed right next to me, after all."  
  
"Sometimes it takes a train wreck to wake you, Draco," Crabbe said, laughing. "Especially when you’re dreaming about that girl of yours back home.?  
  
I froze for a moment, forgetting the lie I had told them when they started asking me about my dreams. Once I got past it, however, I remembered how Hermione had looked the next morning. Her hair much messier than usual, her cheeks red... and she had not been able to look at me in the eye. And though wanting to dictate how everything else in our project was to be done, she seemed oddly disinterested when we arrived back. She had left with Weasley shortly after mumbling some excuse about the library, leaving me to find a safe place to put the goblet of silver water in which her “precious” bracelet rested.  
  
It hadn’t seemed odd at the time... but now -  
  
My heart nearly stopped when the sun suddenly shone again. I couldn’t push away my thoughts of her. I shivered despite the warmth. Even if I let it in, it would never be as warm as looking in her eyes. The tormented soul within was clearer then than ever. No matter how much she fought to hide it from everyone else.  
  
***  
  
Dinner seemed to be very awkward for Granger. Her eyes kept darting to Potter, whose eyes were on Miss. Weasel. I now knew how truly stupid Potter was. Perhaps she was slightly attractive, but she was nothing in comparison to the girl sitting right next to him.  
  
Granger didn't eat. She spent the whole time reading... and looking at Potter' of course. Granger's still straight hair fell into her face as she leaned closer and closer to the pages, as though she wanted to be sucked inside. I felt a weird itch in my stomach. A single tear glided down her cheek. Suddenly, she snapped the book shut and looked around almost frantically.  
  
She looked at me, and then away, in less than a second. I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. Why was I staring? I didn’t care about her. I couldn’t... Never.  
  
"You okay, Malfoy?" asked Blaise Zabini, laughing. "Home tomorrow, remember?"  
  
"I’m never okay..." I said, glancing back at Granger, who was staring right at me.


	3. Agree to Disagree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agree to Disagree: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how you were chosen for Head Girl instead of Pansy, not that she deserved it. I hate how you complained to Dumbledore when you found out I was Head Boy and not Potter. I hate how I had actually planned on being civil with you until then.

Chapter 3 - Agree to Disagree

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
I ran my fingers slowly through my blond hair all the while cursing myself for carelessly forgetting to comb it. I had been too frustrated about not getting Head Boy. It was something I had been so convinced I was going to get through most of my years at Hogwarts. And I _hated_ being wrong.  
  
I was standing at Platform 9 ¾, my mother buzzing around my trunk.  
  
“I have everything, mother,” I said, sharply.  
  
The blonde woman turned to me, looking concerned.  
  
"Now, Draco... I just don't want anything to go wrong," she cooed, softly. "Don't you want your 7th year to be perfect?"  
  
I highly doubted that my 7th year would be anywhere near perfect, but to please my mother, I agreed. She quickly came over to me and adjusted my robes to her liking before glaring at my hair.  
  
"Messy," she mumbled.  
  
My mother hated it when my hair was messy. I never quite understood why. Upon asking her, she always said young ladies preferred men who took the time to look nice, not ones who looked like they had just finished an exhausting game of Quidditch. The malice in her voice, however, had not been so easy to explain.  
  
A smile curved upon my face as I caught a glimpse of Pansy. Her hair was much shorter and pulled back out of her face, save a few strands on each side. She looked _extremely_ different. In a very good way, I must say.  
  
My mother thrust herself into my view, her icy eyes still narrowed. Her lavish sapphire necklace glinted at me in the sunlight.  
  
"I'll fix it on the train, mother," I said, quickly. "I promise."  
  
Her eyes lost their anger but gained a sort of sadness that felt quite familiar. It was like she knew I was just trying to wave her away, yet she had to believe me anyway. She had to keep her trust in me intact somehow.  
  
After a quick peck on the cheek, she was off, her amber robes flowing behind her. I almost wanted to follow her home, when I remembered that my father would also be there. I turned back to the woman approaching me."  
  
"Nice hair," Pansy whispered, running a hand through it.  
  
Okay, something was definitely weird here... I could swear her voice was different, too. She stepped back to let me admire her, and I could only think of what a wonderful year this might turn out to be after all. I would not get to be Head Boy, but I would get the new Pansy all to myself. And I could not wait to -  
  
Suddenly, I felt myself being pushed down from behind. My head hit against the stone ground, hard. I felt blackness circle me for a few minutes before a sharp female gasp brought me out of it. I opened my eyes to see myself staring into the face of Hermione Granger.  
  
"Granger," I moaned, groggily.  
  
Hermione said something, but I wasn't really listening. She looked heavenly with the sun reflecting from the skylights shining around her like a halo. Her Head Girl badge gleamed in the light. Her lips were moving as though in slow motion. It was a lovely sight.  
  
"Draco?" she asked.  
  
Huh? Had she called me... Draco?  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"Are you all right?" Granger asked.  
  
Had that been all she had said? It seemed like such a long time and all...  
  
"Uh, yeah," I mumbled at a total loss for words.  
  
"Stupid Mudblood," Pansy hissed. "Can't you even control your own _animal_?"  
  
It took a few minutes for me to realize what had happened. Granger's humongous ginger cat had attacked me.  
  


_I hate how you were chosen for head girl instead of Pansy, not that she deserved it._

  
  
Granger got up, ignoring Pansy’s comment and focusing on me. She looked awfully distraught for someone who had a glinting Head Girl badge on. How could _Granger_ not be ecstatic? It was insane. But worse... I was jealous.  
  
There was nothing worse than watching her there taking that honour that she had wanted so dearly for granted. I wanted to retch. I wanted to die. There was nothing worse...  
  
Until I saw it... Potter had on a badge. Rage boiled my blood. I swear if I had had my wand in my hand Potter would have been a dead man on the spot. Fortunately, (or perhaps not) my wand was tucked away in my cloak. My nails bit into my empty hands.  
  
Hermione... I, I mean, Granger... Granger stared at me. She wore an expression that I couldn't quite decipher. It was almost a mixture of concern and confusion. No, no... that couldn't be it. Could it?  
  
I looked back to Potter. He frowned at me as he walked over. When Potter was right in front of me, he leaned down so his face was level with mine.  
  
"Need help, ferret boy?" he asked before laughing hard at his own joke.  
  
Her-Granger flashed him a silencing look. Potter's frown returned and he straightened up swiftly. Not swiftly enough, however, for me to not see that the badge shining on his chest was only that of a prefect's. I laughed with happiness. At least Potter wouldn't be doing Hermione on the Head Common Room couch in this lifetime.  
  
I meant Granger... really, I did.  
  
"See, even _he_ thought it was funny." Potter said, pointing at me.  
  
I glared at him and stood up as I said, "Actually, I was laughing at the lack of Head Boy badge on your chest, Potter."  
  
"Bastard," Potter mouthed at me as Granger rushed to place herself between the two of us. She backed into Potter slowly causing him to back up as well, shooting daggers at me all the while."  
  
I'm really sorry about Crookshanks," Granger said, giving Potter a final push that drove him to give up and walk away.  
  
I looked down to see the damn cat was hissing at me -- much like his owner’s best friend.  
  
"Yeah, me too," I said, icily. Then, as an afterthought, I added, "Mudblood."  
  
Granger’s expression changed from concern to rage in seconds. She pulled something out of her pocket and threw it at me. My seeker skills let me catch it with ease, but it jabbed me hard in the palm.  
  
"What the Hell?" I asked, throwing it to the ground.  
  
It was a Head Boy badge. _My_ Head Boy badge.  
  
"Congratulations," Granger said frigidly, before scooping up her cat and stomping off.  
  
The train whistle sounded so I didn’t have time to think about what had just happened. I boarded the train in a daze. I declined Pansy’s offer to share a compartment rather bluntly before moving to a completely empty compartment near the end of the train. I flopped back onto the seat, a million thoughts spinning around my head.  
  
"Stupid Granger," I mumbled, rubbing my punctured hand.  
  
The train began to move, and sunlight soon streamed through the window. I polished my Head Boy badge so that it sparkled as it caught the sunlight. I smiled. It was probably the first time I had done so in… years.  
  
Becoming Head Boy was probably the first thing I had been truly proud of. It was something my parents’ money and influence could not buy me. It was something I had to earn myself. Despite the fact that my longing for it had diminished slightly over the course of my 6th year, I was extremely proud to pin the badge onto my robes now.  
  
For some reason my mind turned to the silver ring in my pocket, and I sighed.  
  
"It's to protect you," my mother had said. "It's blessed with special charms that shall take care of you if ever I am not with you."  
  
I didn’t believe in this “blessed” ring, but I would keep it with me if only to remind me of the one person in this world who truly cared what happened to me.  
  
The compartment door was thrown open, and in the brightness from outside, I thought I was seeing some kind of angel. An _angry_ angel...  
  
Granger shut the door with the same fury with which she had opened it. She flopped into the seat across from me and glared. I was still too in shock to utter a word.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore is making us share a compartment," Granger said, quickly.  
  
I didn’t wonder how she knew this. I should have myself, but I suppose I was still too enraptured over becoming Head Boy. I should have known that it wouldn't last long.  
  
We rode the entire time in silence. Granger stared out the window while I kept myself busy by rubbing my Head Boy badge until my hands ached.  
  
I thought that in my star-glancing at Granger I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. I actually felt bad. Perhaps, we should call a truce. After all, we would once again be stuck together for the rest of the year.  
  


_I hate how you complained to Dumbledore when you found out I was Head Boy and not Potter._

  
  
Once we arrived at Hogwarts, however, things got even worse. After Dinner, Granger walked over to my table and grabbed my arm. I would have done something had I seen her before I felt her claws in my arm.  
  
"What the Hell are you doing, Mudblood?" I managed to get out finally.  
  
The whole of the Great Hall seemed to have their eyes on us. The Slytherins seemed to be particularly concerned that their self-elected leader was being dragged off by a common Mudblood. Crabbe and Goyle had had identical confused looks on their faces... not that this was a completely uncommon occurrence for them, but the rest of the Slytherins mirrored their expressions. Pansy had an added element of pure loathing in hers.  
  
"We're going to have a talk with the Headmaster," Granger said, hastily.  
  
I would have pulled away at that point had my arm not been numb from her nails digging into my skin.  
  
"Professor," Granger called as we neared the grey-haired man approaching the hidden staircase to his office. "Professor Dumbledore!"  
  
"Hello, Miss Granger... Mr. Malfoy," he said, smiling at us as he adjusted his half-moon glasses.  
  
"Professor, I'm sorry but there must have been a mistake," she said, finally letting me go and moving closer to Dumbledore.  
  
My hand flew to my arm which was burning obscenely and had even begun to bleed a bit.  
  
"Mistake?" Dumbledore asked, as though he was confused.  
  
Granger looked awestruck.  
  
"Y-yes," she stuttered, as she finally found her voice.  
  
"And what kind of mistake are you referring to, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Professor," Granger said, looking at me and back to him. "We _cannot_ work together."  
  
Dumbledore put on a look of false shock.  
  
"Why ever not?" he asked.  
  
"Professor," Granger gasped, exasperated. "We're just too-"  
  
"Different," I put in for her.  
  
She turned and glared at me with infuriated brown eyes.  
  
"Yes," Granger said, nonchalantly.  
  
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore said. "But the decision has been made."  
  
"Wh-" Granger started, turning back to him.  
  
"Now, if you will excuse me," Dumbledore said.  
  
He turned back to his staircase and said, "Chocolate Frog". Soon he disappeared from our sight. But we were not alone for long. Professor McGonagall had somehow managed to place herself right behind me.  
  
Follow me, please," she said, scaring me to death.  
  
McGonagall lead us through a part of Hogwarts that I had never seen before. The hallways seemed darker than even the Dungeons, but I rather liked it that way.  
  
"We're here," McGonagall said, stopping in front of what seemed to be an empty, boring wall.  
  
"It's a wall..." Granger said, tilting her head.  
  
I rolled my eyes. Even though she was Head Girl, Granger was still a Mudblood. I had experienced thousands of hidden passages such as these in my own home!  
  
"See this?" McGonagall asked, pointing at a chipped block on the wall.  
  
"Yes," Granger said, still confused.  
  
"That is how you open your passageway," she said. "Now when you are ready you may press both of your hands on it to choose a password."  
  
Realization finally spread across Granger's face. It glowed in her soft, light-coloured cheeks, and...  
  
"I will leave you alone now," McGonagall said, as she gave me a stern glare. "Good luck."  
  
"All the luck in the world could not help us agree," Granger said once said she had gone.  
  
"Damn right," I said.


	4. Hate You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hate You: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how you brought Potter and Weasley into the Head Common Room every chance you got. I hate how they treated me like shit before I had even opened my mouth. I hate how I was going to be civil with them because of you.

Chapter 4 - Hate You

_I hate you, Hermione_

It had been a month since we arrived at Hogwarts. I hated it. I hated her… Not that I hadn’t before. I had always hated Granger. All these years…

“Hey, Hermione,” Potter said, walking into my common room.

_I hate how you brought Potter and Weasley into the Head Common Room every chance you got._

Granger had given both Scarhead and the Weasel the password to get in. And one or both of them were always here. And I mean _always_. They came here during all hours of the night for homework help.

In the beginning, I had planned on being civil with my two former enemies. Actually, it was three former enemies if you counted Granger. I was doing it only because Snape said he would kill me if I didn’t make an effort. I was not to bring disgrace to Slytherin that had housed my family for generation.

But now, it had gotten to the point where Potter and Weasley were annoying the Hell out of me. They would sit there on _my_ couch and talk about me as though I wasn’t there. I didn’t give a damn about what they said, but it was incredibly irritating.

“Stupid Ferret!” Weasley bellowed at me out of nowhere. “Just get away from us!”

I burst into laughter. He was trying to kick _me_ out of _my_ common room! The red-haired freak was crazier than I had thought. He puffed up his chest and glared at me from across the room. He gave a subtle glance at Her-Granger as though he was trying to catch her attention. The sight was ridiculous.

“Malfoy,” Granger said, softly. “Please, just leave us.”

The bushy-haired beauty did not even lift her head as she spoke. She mumbled the words to the floor instead. Her words might have been a thousand times softer than the boys’, but it seemed to anger me much more.

_I hate how they treated me like shit before I had even opened my mouth._

“Why should I have to leave _my_ common room, Mudblood?” I screamed at her.

She blinked her soft brown eyes at me looking almost… hurt. No, no… that was crazy. Granger was a strong person. I could make her angry, but not sad… That was insane. It was laughable… In fact, I almost burst out laughing on the spot.

Until Weasley came at me with his wand, that is. As I ducked, I didn’t even hear what he had tried to curse me with, but by the way Granger ran over to him angrily, it must have been bad. But, why would she care? Granger should want me cursed to bits. She should have taken the damn wand and done it herself!

But, Granger… she was too good. She cared for her enemies! Even if just a tiny bit... And, I--

Suddenly, Weasley pushed Granger away from him and ran at me, infuriated. Lost in my thoughts, my reaction time was slow. He barrelled into me, and we fell to the ground. When my brain came out of shock, I shoved him away and stood in one smooth movement. Weasel knocked his head into a table and was now moaning in pain.

Potter looked from his best friend, who Granger had rushed over to help, to me. Evil swam in his green eyes. For a second they almost seemed to glow as evil as the curse that had destroyed his family so many years ago.

“Stay away from us, Malfoy!” he screamed. “We don’t need your shit anymore.”

Granger looked up and said in a warning tone, “Harry… don’t do anything stupid.”

_I hate how I was going to be civil with them because of you._

Potter ignored her and came at me in the same fashion Weasley had. This time, I was ready. I jumped out of his way, and he toppled into and over a chair and knocked into the wall.

I walked towards the exit and surveyed the scene shaking my head.

“Sad… _sad_ day,” I said. “When pure bloods and defeaters of Voldemort have to resort to m _uggle violence_.”

Granger narrowed her eyes at me but did nothing. I rolled my eyes at the three and left _my_ common room feeling rather self-actualized.

I decided to pay my _dear_ friend Blaise Zabini a visit. I had the password to the Slytherin common rooms, after all. Besides, it would be nice to find someone both motivated and intelligent enough to do some Gryffindor bashing with. I smirked at the thought.

It was a long way to get to the Dungeons from my common room, I realized. I stuck my hand in my pocket and began to fumble with the ring that now resided within it. It seemed oddly warm considering that it was quite cold in the castle. I wondered idly at why my mother had given me it. It didn’t seem so special. And yet…

Suddenly, I heard loud voices from the hallway in front of Dumbledore’s gargoyle.

“I really don’t know if this was such a good idea,” McGonagall said. “Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger?”

I stopped dead in my tracks. They were talking about… _us_. I hid quickly behind a conveniently placed suit of armour and continued to listen.

“Minerva, do you not trust my judgment?” Dumbledore asked.

“Of course, I do,” McGonagall exclaimed, bringing her hand to her chest. “That was not what I meant at all.”

“Well, then,” Dumbledore said, turning. “I do not believe we have anything to talk about.”

“But, _Draco Malfoy_?” McGonagall said.

“Yes?” Dumbledore asked, looking back to the irritated woman.

“Hermione has told me things about him,” McGonagall said. “And I cannot help but think he is turning out just like his father.”

I swelled with anger. I wasn’t quite sure what I was angrier about, the fact that Granger was telling McGonagall shit about me or that McGonagall thought I was just like _him_. The combination made me want to retch.

“ _Lucius_ Malfoy and _Draco_ Malfoy are two completely different people,” Dumbledore said, calmly.

I gaped at him. Dumbledore had something good to say about me. It was utterly shocking.

“Do remember that,” Dumbledore continued.

“But, Hermione-” McGonagall started.

Dumbledore raised a winkled hand to silence the witch.

“Have faith, Minerva,” he said. “And give the poor boy a chance.”

Although I didn’t like being called _poor boy_ (that was a term only for Weasley), I had to be a bit thankful that one person on earth didn’t see me as a younger version of Voldemort’s greatest follower. Not that I liked Dumbledore now… I still hated him with a passion. Just with a slightly weaker one.

“But, do you really think he is responsible enough to put aside his differences with Hermione?” McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore chuckled.

“Minerva, I know what I am doing,” he said. “Just calm your nerves and let me handle any problems that arise… _if_ they arise.”

“I just don’t know, Albus,” McGonagall said. “Even if Draco has nothing to do with Voldemort, he and Hermione are completely different. They will be far too busy fighting to get any work done.”

“It will be fine,” Dumbledore said, confidently.

“How can you be so sure?” McGonagall asked.

“I have done this before,” Dumbledore said, slowly.

McGonagall looked down, confused for a moment, and then looked back up at the old wizard in front of her.

“I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why Draco?”

“There is always a reason, Minerva…” Dumbledore said, mysteriously.

He began to walk away and I moved, trying to see him better. My leg accidentally knocked against the suit of armour, and it went crashing to the ground.

“Shit!” I hissed, jumping up and running for my life.

I fell against the portrait of Salazar Slytherin when I finally got down to the Dungeons. Amazingly, I had not been caught.

“Ah, Draco,” Salazar said. “Congratulations on becoming Head Boy.”

The portrait swung open before I could open my mouth to say the password. I shrugged to myself and walked inside, still panting slightly. I spotted Blaise on the couch, his face buried in a book. He seemed deeply immersed in his book so I decided to sneak up on him.

“Hey, Malfoy,” he said without even glancing up.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked, glaring at him.

“I could hear your breathing a kilometre away,” Blaise said, smirking.

“Wonderful,” I said, rolling my eyes and flopping onto the couch beside him.

“So,” Blaise said, putting his book down. “What are you doing down here?”

“Granger…” I growled, angrily.

Blaise smirked.

“So, _that’s_ why you’re panting,” he said.

“No!” I screamed at him. “I would never even think of sex with Herm- er, Granger.”

Blaise laughed.

“Hmm, I never said sex,” he said. “Must be adding in bits of your fantasies, eh?”

I glared at him.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to go through with that Mudblood and her stupid friends,” I snapped. “Constantly barking insults at me the second they enter the room. Coming at all hours of the night for homework help…”

“Not from you, I hope,” Blaise laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

“I just can’t stand her,” I said, pacing about furiously. “Everything about her gets on my nerves. Her perfectly clean robes, her little study habits, her stupid friends, her bushy hair, and that damn cat she pampers like a god.”

“Hmm…” Blaise mumbled.

“Do you know what that _beast_ did to my best dress robes?” I growled.

He gave a loud laugh.

“What?” I snapped at him.

“Nothing,” he said, getting up.

I grabbed him by his collar and threw him back onto the couch.

“What?” I snarled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, smirking.

I released him, too frustrated to care any longer.

“I’m just noticing that attraction again,” he said, his smirk growing wider.

“Attraction!” I snapped. “To that little brat!?”

Blaise snorted. I couldn’t believe it. Attraction? To Granger? That was the most preposterous thing I had ever heard. Granger was an ugly Mudblood, for God’s sake. One who I sometimes had to bite my nails into my palms to keep from touching. One that-

“What ever you say, Malfoy,” Blaise said. “But she looks like a fun one to break to me.”

I glared at him. That was it! I was leaving.

“Attraction,” I mumbled, furiously as I left. “Ridiculous!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small end dialogue bits inspired by Anastasia, the animated movie.


	5. Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hate Me: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how you told me you hated me when I told them to get the fuck out of my common room. I hate how I hadn't seen it coming from a kilometre away. I hate how I let it hurt me so.

Chapter 5 - Hate Me

_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
The common room opened to a laughing Granger and friends. Well, actually, Potter and Weasley were laughing. Granger was not. They weren’t even paying attention to her. I found that incredibly irritating.  
  


Granger looked up slowly and gave me a slight smile. My heart stopped. I panicked and smiled back, my cheeks turning red. What the Hell was wrong with me? I felt incredibly light-headed, and my face was burning like crazy. It was only Granger, damn it!  
  


“I thought I told you to get out!” Weasley barked in my direction.  
  


I smirked. He was acting as though _he_ had knocked _me_ into the table.  
  


“I believe I’m the only one of us who has the right to kick anyone out of here,” I said. “So, you and Potter can get your asses out, now.”  
  


“What did you say, Malfoy?” Ron snarled.  
  


“I said get the fuck out of my common room!” I screamed.  
  


_I hate how you told me you hated me when I told them to get the fuck out of my common room._

My voice echoed about the room. It sickened me to hear it. I don’t know why, but it did. Maybe I was subconsciously thinking about Granger and how she must feel. Not that I should… did care, or anything. Not for a second…  
  


I glanced over to the spot where she had been sitting so I could see her reaction to the words that had burst from my careless mouth. However, she was no longer there. Her stupid orange cat arched its back and hissed at me, and I continued to stare.  
  


My thoughts then turned to Potter and Weasley. I wondered why they hadn't attacked me yet. A hand gripped my shoulder firmly, and I turned to find a fuming Granger. I smacked her hand off and rubbed my shoulder for a moment. Already, I knew too well that she was far stronger than she looked.  
  


“How… dare… you!” Granger growled, her breath ragged and her eyes flashing dangerously.  
  


I shrunk back against the rear of the couch. She was going to slap me again… I could feel it coming. She clenched her fists, and I began to think she was going to punch me instead.  
  


“I have every right to kick them out of here,” I snapped when I finally found my voice.  
  


“And _I_ have every right to let them stay,” she said, maliciously.  
  


The ones we spoke of, I discerned suddenly, had disappeared. When and to where they had gone, I had no clue.  
  


“You think you're so much better than me, don't you, Malfoy?” Granger said, venomously.  
  


“Of course,” I said slickly, feeling a smirk creep onto my face. “You are just a filthy little Mudblood, after all.”  
  


Actually, I had not meant to say the word. I had lost total control of my mouth and actions, it seemed. Her eyes narrowed treacherously. My hand slipped into my pocket, and I seized my wand without being detected. At some point, I observed, Granger must have done the same, as her wand was now wrapped tightly in her fingers.  
  


“Well,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “This filthy little Mudblood is going to curse you into next week.”  
  


She raised her wand, but I was much faster. I pulled my wand out and screamed, “Expelliarmus!” before she could utter a syllable of whatever she had planned to curse me with.  
  


Granger flew backwards, a sickening look of shock present on her face. She fell to the ground and skidded into the wooden and glass coffee table on which she so often did her homework. Books and shattered bits of glass fell on her head with horrendous thuds.  
  


“Hermione!” I shouted in distress.  
  


I had not wanted to hurt her at all. The spell had been aimed just to disarm the girl, but my fury had somehow gotten the best of my powers and made the spell stronger. I rushed to Hermione’s side not sure of what to say to express how sorry I was. I slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, but it was slapped away within a half of a second.  
  


I backed away slightly as she raised herself to reveal a severely brush-burned cheek. Glass from the shattered table had resulted in a few thin cuts across her face. As shards of glass fell from her hair, I raised my wand at once, intent on healing her.  
  


“Stay away from me!” she hissed, quickly crawling away from me.  
  


Hermione tried to raise herself up further using the coffee table, but her hand slipped and her arm was cut by the jagged edge of what was left of the glass.  
  


“Careful,” I warned, moving to help her up.  
  


I got her into a leaning position before she punched me in the stomach. Suddenly, I was the one on the floor, and Hermione hovered over me, anger in her eyes.  
  


“I can’t believe you!” she screamed. “How could you do that? I should have known better. And I--I was trying to make amends.”  
  


“Her- Granger,” I mumbled, as I tried to get up.  
  


Had I been calling her Hermione all this time?  
  


“Just stay away from me, Malfoy,” Her--Granger shouted as she headed up her staircase.  
  


I watched her go, feeling like she was dragging me behind her. I felt almost violently ill. I knew I had to stop her. I had to _make_ her listen.  
  


I shot up the stairs with lightning speed, grabbing her hand just as it reached the doorknob. She gave a soft gasp. My hand held hers for nearly a minute before either of us really realized what had happened.  
  


“I'm--I’m so sorry, Hermione,” I said. “I didn’t mean to--”  
  


“Oh, stuff it!” she screamed.  
  


Hermione ripped her hand from my soft grip. I felt like a piece of me went with her hand. Maybe, somehow it did…

“I don’t want to hear anymore of your lies!” she shouted.  
  


My breathing became laboured. I didn’t know what Granger looked like at that moment for my eyes were focused on my right hand. Empty… There was a scar on the on the skin between my thumb and index finger. It ran to the back of my hand where it became barely visible. I got that scar the day my mother became sick. Or that’s what I had been told. I had gone to see her, but as my fingers wrapped around the door handle, my father whacked it, hard, with his staff. That was a _long_ time ago. After that day, I was never the same.  
  


“You are the foulest creature on earth, Draco Malfoy!” Hermione screamed, breaking me from my trance.  
  


I looked up just in time to see her fury as she said the three words I had never expected to hear: “I hate you!”  
  


_I hate how I hadn’t seen it coming from a kilometre away._

And then she was gone…  
  


She just left. I just _let_ her leave.  
  


I never, ever thought that she hated me. Maybe I had been blind all this time. Perhaps it had been obvious to everyone in the entire school… but not to me.  
  


I had never thought someone could hold such a strong feeling for me. Sure, it was hatred… But, hatred is a _very strong_ feeling. Some people don’t understand that. Hate is too powerful word to be used so casually. Though there were many people that used it such a way. I almost wished Hermione was one of those people; only, I knew she wasn’t…  
  


The rest of the day was a total blur. I haven’t a clue what I did… at all. Being a Saturday, there were no classes, so I couldn’t simply look at a schedule to figure out where I had been. This I could not stand. I couldn’t stand not knowing what I was doing… what I had done.  
  


I vaguely recalled running into Blaise who was instructing Crabbe and Goyle on how to successfully pull off a Porskoff Ploy while Pansy listened attentively to Millicent Bulstrode moaning about her sick cat. Or perhaps that had been a few days ago…  
  


Sometime near 7 o’clock, I found myself sitting in the great hall staring at a wall. I didn’t know how long I had been there, nor did I remember deciding to come here. My un-scarred hand rose and touched my chest. I felt my heart beating rapidly as though I had just finished a brutal game of Quidditch.  
  


And, then I remembered… I had a Quidditch game. Today… no, now. Right now. And if I didn’t get to the Quidditch Pitch straight away, I was to be late.  
  


“Damn it!” I screamed, racing out from the Great Hall.  
  


The hallways were mostly empty; everyone seemed to want to see the first match of the year. This was lucky, considering anyone in my way would have been knocked down, if not cursed to bits.  
  


Damn Granger. She was the reason I was going to be late! She was the reason Slytherin was going to lose this game. That stupid Mudblood!  
  


I flung open the giant doors to find the weather storming outside. Somehow, I made it to the Quidditch Pitch in the pouring rain before the game actually started. Of course, this did not make much of a difference. We were still going to lose. I only had 5 minutes to strategize with my team. If I could get to all of them instantly, that is.  
  


And I didn't, of course.  
  


Turning a corner, I bumped into someone. Actually, it was more like fell...  
  


I got up from the ground to see it was not Granger, whom I’d so feared it would be. It was, however, a Mudblood girl. Azura Howell was the new Ravenclaw seeker. She was a black girl in 4th year. She was quite tall, I noticed, and didn’t look at all fourteen.  
  


She stared at me with her bright blue eyes, as though she expected me to apologize for knocking her over. I smirked.

“Out of my way, Mudblood,” I said with as much intensity as I would give to Granger.  
  


Azura stood rigid and still as I walked past her. She seemed to be in shock. Perhaps no one had called her that to her face. I found that odd and difficult to believe. She had been around for four years, after all. Someone _must_ have called her that. She must have had _some_ classes with Slytherin, right?  
  


I turned to look back at Azura. She was in the same place where I had left her, clutching her broomstick held in front of her. Still as stone…  
  


Looking at her, I almost ran into another person. This one was Pansy.  
  


“Where have you been, Draco?” she hissed at me.  
  


I rolled my eyes. She acted as though she owned me. It was pathetic. If anything, _I_ owned _her_.  
  


“None of your business, chienne,” I said with full knowledge that she had no idea what chienne meant.

She put on falsely hurt expression as I said this.  
  


“But, Draco, I wanted to give you a good luck kiss before the match,” Pansy said, coming over and wrapping her fingers in my soaking wet sweater.  
  


The whistle sounded, meaning there was only a minute left. I wasted not a second more. I raced to change into my Quidditch things, leaving Pansy behind. I almost felt bad for her sometimes. _Almost_.  
  


I somehow made it onto the field just behind my team. I flew up into the storm staying as far away from the Gryffindor stands as I possibly could. My eyes searched the dark sky for a glint of gold. I wanted to get the match finished as soon as I could.  
  


Suddenly, I noticed Azura flying right towards me. I thought for a second that she was going to hit me, but she swerved at the last second and did something worse. She _spit_ on me.  
  


Anger instantly exploded in me. I turned, ready to chase after her and knock her off her bloody broom when I heard laughter in my ear. I turned my head to find that I was much closer to the Gryffindor stands than I thought. They had seen the whole thing, and they were laughing at me. _Hermione_ was laughing at me.  
  


Hermione hated me. She stood there, soaked to the bones, laughing. Her hair was plastered against her face, which seemed awfully pale in the rain. She was lovely, she truly was; the girl who hated me. Lovelier than any girl alive. Then all of a sudden she stopped laughing and covered her mouth with her hand.  
  


Hermione hated me. I felt so ill. Maybe it was from the icy rain that fell upon me. But, somehow, I knew that wasn't it. It was Hermione.  
  


Hermione hated me. And it hurt.

_I hate how I let it hurt me so._

“Draco!”  
  


It was Hermione’s voice I heard as I fell. I had been hit in the back with a bludger. I saw her face hanging over the stands. Many others did it as well, but I only saw her. I only saw her pained and panicked expression as my body hurtled towards the ground. I saw Hermione pull out her wand--and then I hit the earth.  
  


I had hit the ground with not nearly as much force as I should have. I was still conscious, somewhat. Everything was blurry, including my hearing. I just lay there, knowing no one would come to my aid. No one gave a damn. Dumbledore hadn’t run from the stands to save me like he would have for Potter.  
  


No, I was alone. And I realized at that moment that I always would be.  
  


But as my vision worsened, I heard approaching footsteps. They sounded like echoes. I was able to lift my head just enough to see her for a second. Granger? Granger was coming to save me. _Hermione_ was coming to save me.

I chuckled, sounding almost insane as she sat down beside me.  
  


“Hermione,” I whispered through my laughter.  
  


“Ass,” Hermione said in a voice very unlike her own, before she kicked me in the head… hard. And all went black.  
  


________________________

 

I awoke in the Hospital Wing to Blaise’s smirking face. He was still wearing his Quidditch robes, which left the impression that he had come to see me shortly after my crash landing and had not left since.  
  


“Still alive?” he asked.  
  


“Barely,” I croaked.  
  


“Oh, suck it up, Malfoy!” Blaise said, kicking the bed.  
  


I did the opposite. I coughed it up. Blood…  
  


“Holy shit,” I said.  
  


“Pomfrey said you’ll be fine,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes. “The blood's just a reaction to the potion she gave you.”

  
“What did she use?!” I snapped. “Interemorragia?”  
  


Blaise laughed. “No, no… it’s something new. Silesk, it’s called. It’s supposed to-”  
  


A fresh bit of blood came up my throat, and Blaise pulled out a shining silver bowl from one of the cabinets nearby.  
  


“What am I, then?” I coughed. “Your test subject?”  
  


“You’re just not handling it very well – obviously,” Blaise said, tossing the bowl to me.  
  


I peered inside to see how badly my face had been marred by the whole ordeal. Only when I looked in, it was not my reflection that I saw.  
  


I hurled the bowl to the ground.  
  


“Damn Granger!” I shouted at it in frustration.  
  


Blaise laughed.  
  


“Still on about her, eh?” he said, amusement obvious in his voice.  
  


I felt my face heat up.  
  


“What do you mean?” I asked.  
  


“Well, that’s what it was about earlier,” Blaise said. “Your anger, that is.”  
  


I frowned, realizing I had no idea of how long I had been out.  
  


“What time is it?” I asked.  
  


“Around two,” he answered as he idly fiddled with his wand.  
  


“And they let you down here?” I asked.  
  


I then remembered that Blaise had recently taken a job as Madame Pomfrey’s assistant. He was well qualified, probably even more so than Pomfrey herself… who seemed to have taken to using her current patients as test subjects. Blaise had always been one of the only people to do better than I did with potions, I often joked that he would be the next Potions teacher, and healing potions were his speciality.  
  


“Pansy’s mad at you,” Blaise said, ignoring the question.  
  


“Yes, I left her to change,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Big deal!”  
  


“No, no,” Blaise said, chuckling. “She’s mad that you called her Hermione.”  
  


“When the Hell did I do that?” I shouted.  
  


“You have no feelings for that Granger whatsoever, right?” he asked, again ignoring me.  
  


“Of course not!” I said.  
  


But even as I answered, I felt that overwhelming sick feeling from the Quidditch game return. I saw Granger, soaking wet, laughing once again. And that hurt…  
  


“Well, then,” Blaise said. “Why were you saying her name, eh?”  
  


“What?” I asked.  
  


“You were moaning it in your sleep,” Blaise said, falling into a fit of laughter.  
  


“I was not!” I shouted, although I had no way of knowing if it was true. “I don’t care about that filthy little Mudblood one bit!”  
  


Blaise stopped laughing and gave an evil smile.  
  


“Then you’ll help me play a trick on her then?” he asked.  
  


“Of--Of course,” I stammered, feeling my heart shatter into more pieces than the glass from the table.  
  


“I want you to get Granger to fall in love with you,” Blaise said.  
  


“What?” I asked, stunned.  
  


“Break her heart, Draco,” Blaise said. “Ask her out. I dare you.”


	6. In This Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In This Silence: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how when I asked you out for a dare you saw right through me. I hate how you and Weasley went out that night just to make me mad. I hate how you would later recall it as the worst day of your life.

Chapter 6 - In This Silence

 

_I hate you, Hermione._

  
I knew that asking Granger out was a delicate process. I could easily do something to ruin any chance of her even looking at me again. She was already mad, after all. Granger had kicked me when I had fallen.

 

  
I really wished Blaise had given me more time. He wanted me to get her to walk around with me at Hogsmeade. We didn’t have to be dating, she didn’t have to be in love… but there had to be progress. I had only a few hours during the night to plan after Blaise left me.

 

Madame Pomfrey reluctantly let me out the next morning. I rushed up to my common room, hoping that Hermione… I mean Granger, hadn’t left for breakfast yet. I caught her just in time.

 

  
“H-hey, Hermione,” I said, hoping to sound casual… but I didn’t.

 

  
“Yes?” she asked, staring at me with doubtful wide eyes.

 

  
“I have something for you.”

 

  
I pulled a rose from behind my back. I had stolen it from the kid downstairs. I never did find out what was wrong with him.

 

  
“Oh,” Hermione whispered as she laid her hands over mine to touch it. “Thank you.”

 

  
I fought off the urge to fidget under her touch. It was so light, so pure. And here I was trying to play a trick on her. Not that it was really my idea… or that I even _cared_.

 

  
Her eyes held suspicions, but still she remained calm. Perhaps she wanted to believe me… wanted to believe I wasn’t the pompous jerk she’d always thought of me as. And my job was to convince her.

 

  
“I thought maybe we could walk around together,” I said. “At Hogsmeade, I mean. Get to know each other bet-”

 

  
Suddenly, into the common room exploded Weasley, panting severely.

 

  
“Hermione!” he shouted. “It’s all some sort of trick!”

 

  
He was doubled up for a few minutes after he shouted this. Hermione and I looked at him, shocked… but for different reasons. How had he found out?

 

  
“Harry and I… we heard that Blaise Zabini… and Pansy Parkinson talking… about it,” Weasley said.

 

  
He resumed his full height and glared at me ferociously.

 

  
“Burn in Hell, Malfoy!” Weasley screamed, whipping out his wand.

 

  
“Stop!” Hermione said from behind me.

 

  
Her voice held more anger than Weasley’s, in a way that reminded me distinctly of McGonagall.

 

  
“Let me fight my own battles, Ron. I’m not your little sister. I don’t need you to protect me,” she said, a tremble just barely detectable in her strict voice. “Just wait outside.”

 

  
Ron looked like she had slapped him in the face. He slowly lowered his wand and left without another word. I wasn’t quite sure what happened, but I knew there was more than I understood going on here. I turned my head to see Granger wearing her angry McGonagall glare.

 

  
“You could never fool me.”

 

  
Her hands were still on mine, but not for long. She pulled the rose out of my grasp, making sure it damaged my hand… and my pride. Granger dropped the rose onto the floor and ground it slowly into the carpet with her foot. Her eyes were on mine the entire time. Then she left, still not breaking the stare between us until Weasley obstructed her view to get a glare of his own in.

 

  
_I hate how when I asked you out for a dare you saw right through me._   


 

  
I waited until I was certain that they were gone before bending down and scooping up the damaged petals. I stood there staring at them for what _seemed_ to be a long time. I then made my way to the recently repaired table and opened Hermione’s copy of _Hogwarts: a History_. I sprinkled a few petals inside and closed the book. A second portion of the petals went into my pocket.

 

  
The ones left in my hand were delayed their placement for only a short time. Moving to the window, I saw a slew of students streaming out onto the grounds. Near the end of the pack were Potter, Weasley, and Granger looking ridiculous, their arms around each other. I turned the golden handle to open one side of the window and threw the contents of my right hand into the whirling wind.

 

  
The wind carried the petals directly in front of the trio. I wasn’t sure if that was the reason Granger looked back to see me sitting in the window sill. She looked tremendously hurt and perhaps a bit confused. Granger was fighting back her emotions… just as I was.

 

Then, a wicked smile graced her lips, and I knew at once that she planned to get back at me. She halted, stopping the boys as well by grabbing onto the sleeves of their cloaks. They looked at her, bewildered, as she said something to them that I, of course, could not hear. When Granger was finished, she peered up at me before seizing Weasley’s arm and dragging him away. Potter looked as mystified as I felt and stood there for a while before trudging off to Hogsmeade himself.

 

  
I slammed the window shut and hurried down the stairs and out the large oak doors. I knew I would have to rush to catch up with everyone else. I was determined to find out what Granger was planning, which, perhaps, was placing me directly in her trap. Part of me wanted to be in her trap. I deserved it.

 

  
_I hate how you and Weasley went out that night just to make me mad._   


 

  
For the first time in my life, I walked alone to Hogsmeade. And I mean… _completely_ alone, because being with Crabbe and Goyle was like being alone. Funny, but that was the first time I truly thought about them since I had become Head Boy. I still had classes with them, of course, but they seemed to have moved on. I had a strange suspicion that they were Blaise’s flunkies now.

 

  
The sky was dark gray by the time I reached Hogsmeade. I thought that it was going to rain again, but it never did. Pity, for I thought walking in the rain would be rather comforting at the moment.

 

  
Hogsmeade was not a large place, but it was filled with people. I didn’t think it would be hard to find them, what with Weasley’s red hair, but I actually saw Potter before I saw the other two. _Very_ irritating.

 

I also saw Azura. She was sitting outside on a bench looking very lonely. I didn’t want to walk past her, but the only unexplored territory lay beyond her bench.

 

  
“Are you feeling better?”

 

  
I cringed. She wanted to talk to me? I couldn’t comprehend why. I had been an ass to her. Still, it might have proved an interesting conversation under different circumstances.

 

  
“No,” I answered, coldly.

 

  
I waited for some sign that she had heard me. When I received none, I turned to glare at her. How _dare_ she not answer me? Azura stood there just as she had yesterday. She didn’t look at me, but I could see her lips slowly form the words, “I’m sorry.”

 

  
My stomach clenched. She must have thought all this time that it was somehow her fault I had fallen. If anything, it was my own fault. Her part in the whole affair was not only tiny but also induced. I turned slowly, wanting to get away from her. She didn’t let me, though. She walked behind me like a shadow, dark and silent. Finally, I stopped and turned back to her.

 

  
“It wasn’t your fault!” I shouted.

 

  
Azura raised her eyes to mine, stunned. She seemed to be unable to speak, so I continued.

 

  
“Just leave me the fuck alone!”

 

  
I was standing behind her, because I had circled her twice in my anger. I almost turned to leave Hogsmeade, when I saw _them_. Granger and Weasley were but two buildings away from me. Azura turned to say something more, but I pushed past her, indifferent to whatever she had to say. Did I actually knock her over? I can honestly say that I didn't know.

 

  
But as suddenly as I had spotted Granger and Weasley, they were gone. It was then that I let myself give up. I sat down on the cold ground and sighed. Why was I going after them anyways? It wasn’t like I really cared. I wouldn’t care if they dropped dead at this very moment. I was a Malfoy, and there wasn’t anyone that Malfoy’s hated more than mudbloods and Weasleys. Except Potter.

 

  
But did I really want to be a Malfoy anymore? I suppose I had never really thought of it that way. The training I had suffered through over the summer was the worst I had ever been faced with. There was one night mother came to my room and held me like she had so many years ago. My father cursed at our weakness.

 

  
My father. Lucius Malfoy was a cold man. And I was turning into him, slowly but surely.

 

  
That had to stop.

 

  
The wind was harsh and taunting to me. Cold and yet warm at the same time. It smelled of fall, and the bitter scent of leaves. I wondered where Weasley and Granger _had_ gotten off to. My stomach felt ill at the thought of them… talking, laughing. Maybe even more. That made my blood boil.

 

  
It was almost dark when I finally got up. I realized I was close to the shrieking shack. Usually, people never even think about getting too  
close. But I wasn’t scared. What could a ghost do to you, anyway? They couldn't even touch you…

 

  
There was a girl standing just outside the fence. All I could see of her was long blonde hair. She wasn’t facing me, and she was a bit too far away for me to make out her features. Somehow, she intrigued me. I wanted to know what she was doing up there. So, I climbed the slope leading to the old shack.

 

  
The girl seemed to be about my age. I didn’t recognize her, but I figured she was from Hogwarts. She didn’t seem to notice my presence at first. I stood there just staring at her. She was pretty, I suppose, but not earth shatteringly so or anything. And she wasn’t beautiful… not like Hermione. I pushed the thought from my mind.

 

  
I was baffled. Why was she staring off into nothing like that? I leaned my back against the fence and sighed. Nothing out of the ordinary was present, but I was feeling an odd aura from this place.

 

  
“Ever get a feeling that something bad is going to happen?”

 

  
I jumped. She had said something! The girl hadn’t moved a centimetre since I arrived, but she had noticed me.

 

  
“Uh, yeah… I guess,” I said, caught off guard.

 

  
“I’m having that feeling,” she said.

 

  
Suddenly, I felt extremely cold. I felt bad for the girl. She was only wearing a light cloak while I had opted for my winter one. I pulled my cloak more tightly around myself and stared at the sky.

 

  
“Yes,” I said. “I am too.”

 

_I hate how you would later recall it as the worst day of your life._

 

  
I looked down from the sky and saw Hermione staring at me. She was illuminated in the moon, which was full tonight. I suddenly realized we should be heading back. In fact, we should have been back. We _really_ should have.

 

  
Weasley was only a little ways behind her, but it was far enough.

 

  
Out of nowhere, my father appeared. Obviously, I was the only one who could see him there. What the Hell was he doing here? The scene of the older wizard approaching mesmerized me. Hermione was still staring at me. I wanted to warn her, but I could not find the words. Perhaps the blonde girl had seen him. I turned to find her gone.

 

  
“Hermione, watch out!”

 

  
The girl was running down the slope, pulling out her wand, as was Hermione. But it was too late. My father had done the damage he had come to do.

 

  
All was silent. A flash of green light consumed the area. When it faded, my father was nowhere to be found.

 

  
And Ron Weasley… was dead.


	7. Dried Pink Petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dried Pink Petals: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how you blamed yourself when Weasley was murdered that day. I hate how when I tried to be kind to you, you threw a book at me. I hate how I had to stop you from killing yourself three times that week.

Chapter 7 - Dried Pink Petals

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
The almighty silence since Weasley’s death hadn’t been broken. It seeped in from every corner of Hogwarts Castle, threatening to suffocate us all. Halloween came and went with little celebration, and now winter loomed rather close.  
  


_I hate how you blamed yourself when Weasley was murdered that day._

  
  
Most people blamed me for Weasley’s death. It was plausible enough. He was killed by my father, after all. The disgust never left Potter’s green eyes. Still, it seemed the most important people didn’t blame me at all. The teachers eyed me the first few days, but afterwards seemed to look at me sadly. And Hermione…  
  
Hermione was blaming herself. Apparently, Weasley hadn’t wanted to visit Hogsmeade. He had said something about an ominous feeling. Even after that, Weasley hadn’t wanted to separate from Potter. But Hermione had insisted. Personally, I didn’t see how any of this kept her from blaming me. But she didn’t…  
  
My fingers traced the engraved words on Weasley’s tombstone. The 7th years were all invited to the funeral to pay their respects. By now, everyone else had wandered inside for a bite to eat, leaving me alone to sort my thoughts. Somehow, my stomach was far too sick to eat. I really hadn’t eaten much at all during this first Weasley-less week that seemed to drag on longer than a month.  
  
The breeze held the subtle scent of death that most people couldn’t even pick up. It was cool and warm at the same time and reeked of the aura that dragged Weasley into the depths of Hell. I saw the scene in my mind much clearer than when it was happening before me. The shock was slowly fading into realization, as the breeze grew stronger.  
  
My father had killed Ron Weasley. I saw him appearing, his blonde hair blowing in the same evil breeze that surrounded me now. His face was contorted into the most evil smile I had ever seen. There was only one other time that stood out in my mind, but I didn’t much want to revisit it.  
  
The green light shot from his wand, stealing Weasley’s life in mere seconds. That curse… it was so simple, so sickeningly simple that it took only a few seconds of intense hatred to perform. There is not a being on earth that hasn’t felt real hatred for more than a few seconds. Scary, huh?  
  
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and jumped. It was only Blaise, who wore a particularly foul smirk in contrast to deep sadness. He chuckled at my angry expression.  
  
"What? You expected me to be sad?" he said.  
  
"I suppose not," I sighed.  
  
I let my gaze settle on the grave again until Blaise spoke.  
  
"What a loony."  
  
I looked up and saw a blonde girl in the distance. It was the very same girl I had met on the night of Weasley’s death. She was dressed in a light pink flowing robe and matching headband and was laying assorted flowers on all the graves in the cemetery. She seemed to be dancing to some sad melody in her head as she did this. Barefoot and dressed in pink, I couldn't understand how I didn’t notice her at the service.  
  
Blaise continued to laugh as the girl curtseyed to one of the graves. I glared at him.  
  
"You can't tell me this isn’t hilarious," he said, resting his arm on my shoulder. "Loony Luna Lovegood must be mentally ill or something. Pity there are no spells to-"  
  
"Shut up," I growled, shoving him.  
  
Blaise frowned at me and said, "What is wrong with you, Malfoy?"  
  
Seriously, I couldn’t tell him if I wanted to.  
  
"Just leave me alone, okay?"  
  
Blaise shook his head and walked away. I watched him until he was gone and turned to see Luna gazing at me. She gave me a sad smile before returning to her work. I sighed and let my hand travel into my pocket.  
  
As I heard people coming back outside, I pulled out the contents and sprinkled them onto the grave. I turned to join the others in piling into the carriages that had brought us there.  
  
The carriage I had chosen contained four other students. Four relatively unknown other students. Because that’s exactly what I wanted. I didn’t want to be around my fellow Slytherins. And I certainly didn’t want to be anywhere near Potter’s evil glare. Not to mention Hermione.  
  
I knew three of them by face, Ravenclaws with whom Slytherins shared classes in the past. And the quiet redhead in the corner was most certainly the woman of the surname Bones. I knew not her first name, nor did I particularly care, but being of a death eater’s family I knew her past quite well. It seemed that she knew me as well, from the look on her face when I entered. But she soon turned away and pressed herself into her corner.  
  
The other three regarded me briefly as I sat in the opposite corner of Bones’ bench. We were separated by a dark-haired boy whose surname began with a C if I remembered correctly. Across from us sat a sandy-haired boy who was holding several sheets of parchment and a quill and an Asian-looking girl with extraordinarily long black hair. I wondered for a bit whether or not they would confront me as so many others had in the past few weeks. But I was quite wrong. They had decided to completely ignore me. I really didn’t care.  
  
When the carriages finally began to move, I looked out the window and watched the now dried pink petals swirl in the wind. Soon after, the three Ravenclaws moved together, undoubtedly about to start one of the intellectual discussions they were known for. However, they didn’t start talking at all. The sandy-haired one immediately began sketching on his parchment as the other two merely watched.  
  
I was beginning to think they didn’t want to say anything in front of me when the girl decided to cautiously slip words into the silence. "The funeral?"  
  
"It was quite lovely, I thought," the artist replied, softly. "I figured Anthony might want to see what it looked like."  
  
"Is he still quite sick, Terry?" the girl asked, sadly.  
  
"Worse," the other boy replied, casting a quick glance at the Bones girl who seemed to be wiping at her face quite a bit.  
  
"I was afraid so," she said, leaning back.  
  
The silence resumed for a few minutes, only the gentle scratching of the quill to keep me sane. The girl was once again, the one to break the silence. "I... I can't believe he's dead."  
  
"It's truly tragic," Terry said still not tearing his eyes away from his drawing.  
  
"It's really hasn't become real until now... and even so." She paused, adjusting her black, beaded bracelet. "And poor Ginny," she resumed with a whisper. "She was sobbing the whole time."  
  
The dark-haired boy looked up at once with a strange expression on his face. "Was she, really?"  
  
"Oh... oh, I'm so sorry, Michael... I didn't realize--" she stuttered. "I mean, I thought with Cho you had--"  
  
"It's nothing, Su," Michael replied, softly as he looked away. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Su bit her lip and looked back to Terry's drawing. "I just... I can't imagine losing someone so close to me."  
  
"And with the dark times approaching..." Michael breathed.  
  
"...there's bound to be closer hits." Su finished.  
  
A small sob from the corner caught everyone’s attention.  
  
"Susan," Michael whispered, scooting closer to the now weeping girl. I wondered for a moment how anyone could be that affected by a funeral of someone she hardly knew. And then I remembered that I didn't care.  
  
Su got up from her seat and instead sat on the floor near Susan’s feet, taking her hands. Terry watched the three for a moment before resuming his sketching. And I, not wanting to watch a crying girl for the rest of the trip, opted for the scenery.  
  
I believe Potter and Granger went for a walk when we arrived back at Hogwarts. I wanted to follow, but I didn’t deserve it. I went up to the common room and stretched out on the couch, feeling very alone. I think I actually fell asleep listening to the silence in the air.  
  


_I hate how when I tried to be kind to you, you threw a book at me._

  
  
I awoke to the sound of soft voices. Hermione and Potter were talking in hushed tones, though not so I wouldn’t hear. They didn’t even know I was there. There was just an unwritten rule to keep quiet. No one dared to break it. I caught only the tail end of their conversation.  
  
"I will kill him, Hermione. I swear it."  
  
"Harry, you can't... I won't let you."  
  
Were they... talking about me?  
  
"Hermione, you _can't_ talk me out of it."  
  
There was the sound of a chair being pushed in and Potter was gone. Hermione got up and reached out to him, his name on her lips, but she stopped, not following him out of the common room. From my place on the couch, I saw something heart wrenching. Hermione's hair... It was straight.  
  
Hermione turned finally and flinched, almost scared as her eyes took in my form.  
  
"Y-you," she said, anger filling her red eyes. "W-what did you hear?"  
  
"I'm sorry," I blurted.  
  
"You aren't!" Hermione shouted at the top of her lungs. "You've never cared for anyone but yourself!"  
  
The rule of silence was broken in that instant, not to mention my eardrums.  
  
...And my heart.  
  
"Hermione," I whispered, reaching out to touch her hand.  
  
Hermione backed away quickly, hitting the table.  
  
"Don't... call me... Hermione," she growled.  
  
She snatched up the first book her hand encountered, which also happened to be the largest on the table, and hurled it at my head. Time seemed to move unbearably slowly as the book flew towards me. As it came ever closer, out spilled the dried pink petals. The smell of them hit me just as the book did. And Hermione gasped.  
  


_I hate how I had to stop you from killing yourself three times that week._


	8. The Teal Light and the Lonely Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Teal Light and the Lonely Kiss: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how the last time you tried to kill yourself I kissed you. I hate how you slapped me and said I was trying to take advantage of you. I hate how you were probably right.

Chapter 8 - The Teal Light and the Lonely Kiss

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
I found myself staying up to extreme hours in the following weeks. Keeping an eye on Granger was hard work. There was no telling when she would break down. One minute she would be raising her hand in Potions, perfect as usual. The next minute she would be slumped against Potter’s shoulder in the Potions Storage Room.  
  
The teachers pitied her, I suppose. Even Snape would excuse her whenever she needed a good cry. Strange, I know. Sympathy is rare from the Potions Master. This emphasizes my point even more. _Everyone_ was worried.  
  
I suppose Potter had noticed her suicidal behavior as well. He watched her closely, looking as I must look during those long November nights. I figured Potter had warned the teachers, at least some of them, to watch out for Granger. I had told Snape myself, earning a baffled look from his cold eyes. It was worth it, though. Anything was worth it.  
  
Things, therefore, fell into an uncomfortable pattern. A pattern that no one dared to break, not even I. My nights were spent sprawled in front of Granger’s door. I heard her stifle cries against her pillow, the gentle scratching of her quill against parchment, nothing more. Nothing to worry about… I did anyway.  
  


_I hate how the last time you tried to kill yourself I kissed you._

  
  
But one night… things were different. I had passed out from pure exhaustion so, at first, I was certain I was dreaming. My eyes opened to an odd light coming from the space beneath the door. It was teal-coloured. I had no recollection of any spells that emitted this kind of light, and I was well oriented with the Dark Arts.  
  
I spent not a second more pondering. I grabbed the doorknob only to pull my hand back, sharply. I felt as though I had stuck my hand in the fireplace. Even after removing it from the wretched object, it continued to burn.  
  
"Hermione," I cried out.  
  
She gave a shriek from behind the door, and I ignored my pain, grasping the doorknob again. This time the pain was just too much. I collapsed to the ground, feeling tears escaping my eyes. I started to hyperventilate as my consciousness began to slip from my reach.  
  
The door flew open, but I saw nothing through the light. As my eyes adjusted, I could just barely make out Hermione’s form floating in the air. Spinning around her were symbols that I didn’t understand.  
  
"Help me."  
  
Her whispered words didn’t register with my closing mind...  
  
Hermione’s hand cupped my chin and brought my face towards hers. She was glowing with the teal light and smiling.  
  
"I just wanted you to know that I- I..."  
  
I was dying. I was dying, and Hermione was going to proclaim her love for me. I waited for the lovely words with a heavy heart.  
  
But what I heard next was gibberish. It didn’t even sound like a woman speaking, let alone my dear Hermione. I had never heard such a language before. I shrunk away from her, terrified at the voice.  
  
ldquo;Don’t go…”  
  
I reached out to her, but the eerie voice returned, and I pulled my hand away, quickly. I didn’t understand, but suddenly I didn’t feel like dying. I broke free of my vision to see only Hermione’s closed door.  
  
"My fault,” she wailed from inside. “It _was_ my fault!”  
  
I ignored the dreams from before and ripped the door open. Hermione was in the window screaming. “PLEASE! Please come back!”  
  
Her voice was hoarse, and it broke my heart to hear it. I ran to her and pulled her into my arms, scared that she would gladly jump to her death. She wept in my arms as though I was a close friend, or maybe…  
  
When she pulled away, her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was pallid. Maybe I was crazy, but I still thought she was beautiful. Our eyes kept us locked in a world unknown to all others. I don’t know how it happened, but I kissed her. My mind wasn’t working properly, that’s all. I was so tired, and I was willing to do anything to stop her from--  
  
Oh, Hell… I love her.  
  
The kiss was awkward, but that’s what made it so beautiful. We had no idea of what was going on. We were scared and lonely. Looking upon us, I’m sure it showed. My heart pounded, and all I wanted to do was pull her into me. I wanted to protect her from anything that would do her harm. Potter, my father, Voldemort… anything, anyone. I suppose I forgot to include myself.  
  


_I hate how you slapped me and said I was trying to take advantage of you._

  
  
The kiss didn’t last forever. Hermione eventually pulled away, gasping for breath. Anger glowed in her eyes. I was reminded of the day she told me those three horrid words and prepared myself for the worst. She had no hesitation in slapping me across the face.  
  
“What… What’s wrong?” I snapped.  
  
I thought I was doing a very good job at taking things slowly. Usually, I’d already be half undressed at this point. Why the Hell was she angry?  
  
“You’re trying to take advantage of me!”  
  
I- I wasn’t. How could she say that? I loved her! I adored her with every fiber of my being and was actually willing to admit it, and she dares to say I’m trying to take advantage of her?  
  
“I am not!” I screamed. “What gave you that idea?”  
  
Hermione didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. Her life was in shambles. Her best friend had been killed-- by my father no less. Voldemort was stronger than ever. She was constantly in tears.  
  


_I hate how you were probably right._

  
  
“Just get out!” She screamed, her voice choked with tears. “Now!”  
  
“I won’t leave you alone.” I said, forcefully. “I won’t let you jump out that window.”  
  
Hermione looked at me, baffled.  
  
“I- I wasn’t jumping out the window. I was just--” She stopped. “Wait, you didn’t… You didn’t see, did you?”  
  
“See what?”  
  
But then I remembered the teal light and the odd symbols. Had it really happened?  
  
“That light! What was it?” I asked.  
  
Hermione ran to her dresser and pulled out a jar filled with glowing teal stones.  
  
“I got them after I found out I was Water,” she said, quickly. “They are supposed to comfort your magical soul.”  
  
I picked one up and felt the sensation of walking on a quiet beach. It was nice for a minute, but my soul soon rejected it. The stone iced over and crumbled to bits. We watched the bits fall in silence.  
  
“Don’t stay by my door anymore.”  
  
I listened to her. I knew about the stones. I knew they would aid her. But I couldn’t help feeling something was wrong about that night. Something that, in my weak and tired state, I was missing.  
  
I didn’t stay by her door anymore. I conjured a floating bed and slept outside her window.


	9. The Curse Called Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Curse Called Love: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how when you finally got over Weasley's death, we became enemies again. I hate how Potter slept with you in his arms on the Head Common Room couch when you had a nightmare every other night. I hate how once it was more than just sleeping.

Chapter 9 - The Curse Called Love

  
_I hate you, Hermione._   


  
As I continued to search my brain for what was wrong with that night, the uncomfortable pattern broke. Something about that night changed everything. It was so important, but I was still clueless.  
  
Hermione was generally back to normal. She was no longer having crying fits, though at odd moments, I could swear she looked truly terrified. She was having nightmares, and they seemed to creep into the shadows of her reality.

  
_I hate how when you finally got over Weasley’s death, we became enemies again._   


  
My bed under Hermione’s window didn’t last long, for she hardly slept there. Potter and Hermione spent long nights in front of the fire talking in hushed tones. I didn’t have the courage to eavesdrop. I didn’t want to listen to Hermione bearing her soul to Scarhead. I didn’t want to realize she’d never trust in me that way. I didn’t want to realize I was not trustworthy.   
  
Although I hated Potter, I was glad to see _someone_ taking care of Hermione. She wouldn’t let me, after all.  
  
Yes, being in love is _so_ wonderful. I can’t understand why I didn’t try it sooner.  
  
I didn’t trust Potter to take care of Hermione completely on his own, however. I still kept a close watch over her whenever possible. Unfortunately, Slytherins didn’t share many classes with Gryffindors… for obvious reason. I was mostly limited to Double Potions.  
  
It was a strange thought that only months ago, Hermione and I were still hard at work on the LAWFIES Potion. My stomach lurched with an ache to fall back into those days. Fighting with constant, blazing denial was far better than the situation at hand.  
  
But I had little choice.  
  
I haphazardly cut up some random herbs, as I observed Hermione making a perfect mixture of Veritaserum. Snape peered into her cauldron and pronounced it passable but still a bit cloudy. Hermione stared into her faultlessly clear potion looking distressed, and for a moment, I wanted to curse Snape for being so hard on her after everything.  
  
The look on Snape’s face when he came to my cauldron was utter disgust. It was nearly pitch black and smelled strongly of bitter grass. He said nothing, but narrowed his eyes at me before moving on. I felt a chill in my normally comforting atmosphere. I turned back to see Hermione looking my way. Her face was unreadable, and the moment was brief.  
  
After class, I hastened to get my things together, ready to follow Hermione, who was chatting pleasantly with Longbottom. I felt a rough grip on my shoulder. “Draco, I’d like a word.”  
  
“Yes, Professor?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes on Hermione leaving.  
  
He didn’t continue until the rest of the students were gone. Some stared as they passed. I silently wished myself to be in any one of their positions, not something I wished for often.  
   
“You’ve not been acting yourself lately, Draco,” Snape said, his face caught between anger and concern.  
  
I felt panic sink into me. I considered Snape and me to be on good terms, but should I tell him the truth, my father was be alerted by day’s end. Of this, I was certain. I searched my mind for a plausible excuse. Love was even ruining my impressive lying abilities.  
  
“You’re beginning to worry me, boy,” Snape continued harshly. “I realize that you shirk your essays fairly often, but I’ve never seen your skills so poor!”  
  
I scowled at him. I disliked being called “boy”, and the rest of his statement faded away from its context.  
  
“I’m fine!’ I snapped. “Perhaps, you should mind your own business.”  
  
“If you don’t improve, Draco, I will be forced to fail you for this semester,” he warned.  
  
“Just give me whatever grades I deserve,” I muttered, exasperated. “I don’t care.”  
  
The anger in his face was rapidly losing to the concern the more I spoke. I had hoped that it would be the just the opposite, and he would throw me out of the room in frustration.  
  
“What is it that’s bothering you?” He asked me, seriously. His tone was almost pleading. “Whatever it is, I’ll assist you, but I cannot do _anything_ unless you tell me!”  
  
My mind was wandering. Hermione had a free period next, but Potter did not. I needed to follow her. I needed to say whatever would convince Snape to let me go the quickest. But I couldn’t think of anything.  
  
“I’ve… I’ve been… having nightmares.” I mumbled, unable to pull my thoughts away from Hermione getting attacked in her shadows.  
  
Snape looked surprised, and I felt deeply aggravated with myself. Now Snape thought I was a coward. Too scared to even go to sleep. In a strange way, it was true… but not for that reason.  
  
“Hmmm,” Snape seemed to consider my answer for a minute. “Yes, well… the solution is simple, then. I’ll mix you up some Dreamless Sleep Potion.”  
  
“Oh,” I said, shocked that it had been that simple. “Thank you, Sir.”  
  
“Come back after Dinner,” he said. “I should have it prepared by then.”  
  
And with a swish of his robes, _he_ left _me_ standing in the classroom alone. As I searched for Hermione, I pondered my slip of good fortune. If Hermione’s nightmares were the reason she stayed up most nights with Potter, I could rectify the problem. The resolution almost seemed too simple, but I was grateful for any luck I could get. Even if it only helped Hermione and left me none the better.  
   
Hermione wasn’t in the Library or back in our room, and I wasn’t sure where else to look. I considered actually attending my class; I was outside for Herbology with the Ravenclaws next, but I never quite made it there. On the way, I was swept away by the sweet smell of Autumn in the air and the promise of the last good walk before Winter.  
  
Hermione sat by the edge of the lake, a book open in her lap. There were a few other students mingling about, and she hadn’t noticed me, but I didn’t dare to go any closer. After a short while, Hermione bent over the lake and splashed a bit of water on her neck.  
  
I was baffled. What the Hell was she doing? I didn’t have much time to reflect on this though, however. An owl was flying towards me. At first, I was too worried that Hermione might notice to realize exactly whose owl it was. My father’s…  
  
Daray landed on my arm, and I quickly escaped the scene. Once out of sight, I accepted the letter from Daray’s claws and sat down to read it in dread, my back pressed against the castle for support.  
  
 _Dear Draco,_  
  
 _I am in great need of your assistance with a mission. Perform well, and I’ll have a reward in store for you. Meet me in the woods on the night of the next full moon._  
  
Short and concise… like every other letter I had received from my father. It was missing that element that I’m sure was in Hermione’s letters. That element of love that felt like a gentle caress when reading it… but realizing I would never read a letter from Hermione felt like a kick in the stomach.  
  
Dinner was a blur of misery and frustration. Hermione looked anxious. She hid it reasonable well with studying for exams, but I knew what to look for. Potter, apparently, did not.  
  
Hermione rubbed her neck often, perhaps subconsciously. My only absurd guess was that she’d been bitten by a vampire, but I’d never heard anything about splashing the bites with lake water. And I knew a fair bit about dark creatures.  
  
After Dinner, I walked down to the Potions Classroom, feeling a migraine building. Snape wasn’t there, but Blaise was, and something about him seemed off at once.  
  
“What are you doing in here?’ I asked. “Do you feel it?” I flinched. His voice didn’t sound normal. “Feel what?”  
  
“The gods, Draco,” he said, smiling sinisterly. “They are not pleased. The balance has been upset.”  
  
“What the Hell are you talking about?” I demanded, trying not to let his words scare me.  
  
“They’re angry at us… at _you_. You keep inferring.” Blaise said, stalking slowly towards me.  
  
“You’re drunk,” I said, simply, feeling it was the only acceptable explanation.  
  
He smirked. “Say what you will.”  
  
“ _I always have_ ,” I said, strongly.  
  
“Not always.” He snickered. “Not with _her_.”  
  
My mind was racing… I couldn’t decided if he was possessed, or if he really was drunk, but I started to back towards the door. I wanted nothing more than to run upstairs, and take Hermione into my arms, and never let her go.  
  
Blaise tilted his head and smiled insanely. “You’d think of her even now. You’re a strange man, Draco Malfoy.”  
   
He was possessed; I was convinced. Blaise would never talk that way… drunk or sober.  
  
“Look,” I said, trying to play along. “I have business here with Snape.”  
  
Blaise thrust his hand out. Clutched in it was a small potion bottle. “He told me to give it to you.”  
  
The smile was absolutely unnerving. I forced myself to look at the potion. I had never seen the Dreamless Sleep Potion and had no way of deciphering it from a fake. The bottle was a cloudy grey colour. I couldn’t even see the liquid. I took the bottle from Blaise intent on dumping it in the bathroom upon my arrival upstairs. It was hot, almost scaldingly so. I wanted to drop it on the spot, but gritted my teeth and grasped it tighter.  
  
“Well, thank you,” I managed to say.  
  
He laughed, but fell back, coughing, against a table knocking several empty bottles to the floor. He coughed up what looked like gilly water, but it bubbled upon hitting the ground. I cringed and looked up at my fellow Slytherin. His face was filled with fear.  
  
Blaise collapsed to the stone floor, mumbling some gibberish. Scared to death, I fled the scene, knocking several first years over as I scrambled up the stairs. I didn’t know what was going on, only that it was bad, very bad. Blaise wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t fall prey to possession so easily. Would I be overcome by the Imperious Curse… or whatever it was that had gotten even Blaise Zabini?  
  
But my dread only escalated as I finally arrived at my common room, panting. Potter and Hermione were on the couch… snogging. And I realized a curse unlike any other filled my veins already. The curse called love.

  
_I hate how Potter slept with you in his arms on the Head Common Room couch when you had a nightmare every other night._   


  
That night was especially difficult. Things just seemed to get worse and worse. Hermione and Potter kissing, a menacing note clutched in my hand, and a bottle of poison on my bedside table… I didn’t see how things could get much worse.

  
_I hate how once it was more than just sleeping._   


  
They did.


	10. More Than Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Than Just: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how I had to listen to you and Scarhead “not sleeping” the night my father Lucius tried to kill me. I hate how I had said no, more for you than for myself. I hate how I had nearly killed myself for you that night.

Chapter 10 – More Than Just

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
My heart was in pieces. I was completely alone. If I was to be honest about it, I had always been alone; I'd often liked it that way. Everything felt different now.  
  
I had no one to turn to. No one could understand. Not even Hermione could understand. Hermione would not see the pain behind my eyes. We would not run to each other in wild passion. There was no passion left in either of us anymore. We would not make love until the world ended around us. It was a line only befitting a foolish romance novel.  
  
Hermione and I were living through our fears in reality. It would not have a perfect conclusion like a novel. That's why I don't read them. That's why Hermione doesn't read them. Novels are for dreamers. We are not dreamers.  
  
That is why I couldn't see anything painted in the full moon that fateful night. It was a moon and nothing else. To me, it was not a symbol of destiny waiting for me in the woods. It didn't echo the cries of terror in my heart or the shrieks of pain in my soul. It was just a moon.  
  
I had fully believed I was not going to meet with my father. I didn't need more conflict, but I was walking right towards it. Running, really. I was running to my father; I was running to the cold life that had hidden me from the world. I felt the wind all about me, chilling me to the bone. I wore not even the lightest cloak, and the air was brutal.  
  
I was quite used to the cold, though. I liked it. I deserved it.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was leaning against a sapling when I found him. He was twirling his wand in his fingertips as though it were a toy and he, a small boy. Beside my elder Malfoy lay a horrifying sight, indeed. A freshly fallen young unicorn was just a few centimeters from his feet. My stomach gave a lurch looking at it.  
  
"Good evening, Draco." Lucius said, coolly. "I was beginning to think you had forsaken your father."  
  
"Pansy wouldn't let me get away easily," I lied, effortlessly. Something about being around him brought it out in me.  
  
Lucius chuckled, probably lost in some memory I did not wish to learn. "Ah, yes," he sniggered. "I suppose we cannot have the future bearer of the next heir to the Malfoy legacy displeased so early in the courtship, can we?"  
  
I cringed, but Lucius didn't notice, grey eyes still focused on the twirling of his wand. He straightened up from the tree, and I could see he had unearthed it a bit from his weight. That made two innocent young things he had tampered with in this wood. Would I be the third? Or did I no longer deserve that label?  
  
"Stupid animal," he said of the unicorn. "The Dark Lord asked me to bring one back to him, if I saw one. I wasn't going to bother with searching, but it nearly ran at me."  
  
Though I knew it to be false, some part of me wanted to believe it had deserved its fate. Moreover, his words meant that this had not been the reason behind the letter. A thought that frightened me greatly.  
  
Lucius' eyes turned, finally, to consider me. My heart was filled with fear and adrenaline. He sneered, and my hand instinctively twitched toward the wand in my pocket. His hand dipped into his own pocket, and I stood there, waiting.  
  
He produced a photograph from his pocket, and I took it. It was a picture of a girl who looked no older than thirteen. She had extraordinarily long, wavy brown hair. She was sitting in the grass dressed in formal attire with ornate Celtic jewelry sparkling in the sun. I tried to understand why this girl would be of any importance to me.  
  
"Tonight, I want you to bring that girl to me," Lucius said. I started to wonder if he hadn't lost what was left of his sanity.  
  
"She's just a muggle," I said, staring at the still picture. "Why the Hell would you care about her? Of what importance could this muggle possibly be?"  
  
"Don't ask questions," Lucius answered. "The Dark Lord wants her. That should be enough for you."  
  
I realized by the look on his face that he had no more clue to the meaning behind this mission than I did. That gave me a momentary touch of pleasure. Looking at the picture again, it was lost. The girl was laughing. Her blue eyes sparkled with such mirth that I felt a bit jealous of her. This was a life I would never have. I stared at her face, and after a moment, I realized I didn't care if she had it either.  
  
"Where is she?' I asked. "What do I have to do?"  
  
Lucius's face was proud and arrogant. He thought I was doing this to please him. He couldn't have been more wrong. I would only do things for myself now. Lucius handed me a gleaming silver spoon with a tiny version of the Malfoy crest at the end of the handle. He waved his wand over it, saying the incantation to turn it into a portkey.  
  
"Bring her back alive," he said, firmly when he finished. I was glad. I didn't care what happened to her, but I didn't like the idea of tarnishing myself with a mere muggle's death.  
  
"Right," I said.  
  
"Go now, Draco," Lucius said. His face was still smug; it made my stomach turn. I knew I should have fought him. Made sure he knew the meaning behind my actions was not to serve him. In fact, I shouldn't have agreed to it at all. Whatever he and the Dark Lord wanted, I should have made my mission to stop. No matter how ridiculous it seemed. But fighting Lucius for some muggle girl I didn't even know would have been foolish.  
  
"Yes, Sir," I said. I would not be so stupid.  
  
I gripped the spoon that had been laying flat in my hand, and I felt the pulling and spinning sensation as I traveled by portkey. My arrival in the backyard was not pleasant. Something about the portkey's effect on my current health made me feel quite dizzy.  
  
I fell to the grass and laid there for a long time, my right side against the ground. I began to feel a bizarre happiness move through me. I was entranced as though in a pleasant dream. I felt content to stay as I was forever. I never wanted to leave.  
  
I moved only when a gentle kiss of snow fell upon my exposed cheek. I rolled onto my back and watched the flakes drifting downward. My vision, although still blurry, was now bearable. But I still didn't want to leave. Something in the back of my mind told me that this was strange, but I didn't understand what sort of defense a house full of muggles could have on it.  
  
Though I didn't want to, I eventually pulled myself up. I tried to keep the image of the laughing muggle girl first in my mind, and with that, the anger it inspired. The fire burned and lit my way through the strange feeling.  
  
The back door was open before I realized I had recited a spell. The house was still, but I heard a bit of light music coming from the nearby staircase. I ascended slowly, trying not to listen. The singing was so soft and airy that it felt like a lullaby. I wanted to forget everything and fall asleep right where I was, but I pushed forward, almost painfully.  
  
Once I reached the hallway, I felt myself drift into oblivion for a moment. I knocked a picture from the wall, and it crashed to the ground. I was suddenly wide awake. I waited for someone to stir. I waited. There was no sign of alertness in the house, so I continued towards the door marked with silver letters spelling "Jane", the source of the music.  
  
I opened the door, carefully. My wand was ready with more vigilance than I would have guessed was needed for such a simple mission. Jane's room was small compared to mine, though not tiny in itself. There were two large bookcases, and books were scattered everywhere. I wondered if this was what Hermione's bedroom looked like. It also contained a vanity where the necklace and earrings from the picture were placed, a large window with a seat, and a desk where a strange contraption was making the music I heard.  
  
I approached the contraption, my wand held high. Whatever it was, it was enchanted. Of that, I was sure. I contemplated how to destroy it, when I received a harsh blow to the head. I whipped around to see the girl from the picture, looking a few years older than the photo and determined. Jane had somehow slipped out of bed without my noticing and hurled one of her many books at me. I had not been defeated, however.  
  
I pointed my wand at her and smirked. "Come quietly, and I won't kill your family."  
  
Jane nodded, but she was backing away from me into her bedside table. She grabbed the vase on top of it and threw it, next. My seeker reflexes kicked in. I destroyed the vase in midair, causing a loud gasp from Jane.  
  
"I guess I'll just have to take you, then," I said, angrily. "Stupefy!"  
  
Jane collapsed to the floor. So pathetic. I gathered her in my arms and quickly ran for the stairs. The vase's explosion had finally woken the other inhabitants of the house, and I didn't want any more trouble from that ridiculous family of muggles. I ran out into the yard which was now covered in a thin layer of snow.  
  
I couldn't see the portkey, and for a moment, I panicked. I sank to my knees where I thought I had left it and dug around furiously, still holding Jane. I heard upset voices, just as my fingers brushed against the cold metal. And we fell away from their sight.  
  
I crashed to the ground, the still unconscious Jane breaking my fall. I pulled away from her and leaned against a tree, looking for my father, who was nowhere in site. I felt sick and agitated, and I wanted to be done with the irrational mission I had been given. I glared at the muggle girl, who was keeping me from my warm bed.  
  
The moonlight broke through the trees now, and shone upon us as I waited. Closer inspection of Jane showed that she actually looked a bit like Hermione. Her hair was almost the same shade of brown and wavy, though not nearly untamable as Hermione's. After staring at her for awhile, Jane's facial features even had hints of Hermione. But then, my judgment was a bit off.  
  
I was probably painting Hermione into the scene. Into the happy picture. Into the strange muggle home. Into everything, as always. I hadn't been jealous just for myself. I had been jealous for Hermione's sake. Why did this silly muggle girl deserve happiness when Hermione did not even have much will to live? But Jane would no longer have that world. I wasn't sure what the Dark Lord wanted with her, but it would be bad.  
  
Suddenly, Jane was awake. She sat up, looking scared and disheveled. 'Where am I?' she asked, looking at me. "What have you done?"  
  
I pulled out my want to stun her again, but a different answer came from the shadows. "Crucio!"  
  
Jane shrieked in pain, and I cringed in spite of myself. Lucius emerged from the trees, his cold eyes enjoying the pain his magic had inflicted. As the curse faded, Jane curled up, sobbing, and I tensed waiting for the curse to be cast again.  
  
But it didn't come again. Lucius was looking at me now. "Get up, Draco."  
  
I followed the order.  
  
"I'm pleased with your performance, and I'm sure the Dark Lord will be as well," he said, proudly. "You'll come with me to present the muggle filth and receive the Dark Mark as your reward."  
  
My heart leapt out of my chest with fear. "No!" I shouted without thinking.  
  
"Wh-what!" Lucius hissed, shaking with malice. ""How… dare… you. You will accept the mark!"  
  
He turned his wand on me, but for once, I was faster. "Cruc-"  
  
"Stupefy!" Lucius Malfoy crashed to the ground, and I had never felt so scared for my life. Jane looked up at me, her tear streaked face echoing my own fear.  
  
I kicked the silver spoon towards her. "Grab it!" I shouted. She did so and vanished from my sight.  
  
One thought invaded my terrified mind. 'Run.' I didn't look back. He wouldn't stay down for long. I finally broke through the trees onto the Hogwarts Grounds, fully convinced that my Father was now on my trail.  
  
I did the only thing I could think of. I shot a quick spell at the gamekeeper's hut. Hopefully, he would hear his window shatter and come to my aid. I kept running, but I did chance a look back and didn't see him. My father, perhaps scared of the giant of a man, had not come through the woods. I did not stop running, however, until I was safely inside the doors of Hogwarts Castle.  
  
I sank to my knees with exhaustion. He wouldn't come after me. He couldn't. There was too much a chance of detection. If the stupid half-giant wasn't already alerted, it would only be a matter of time. The thought startled me up, scared of my own exposure. With all of my strength I forced myself up to my room.  
  


_I hate how I had to listen to you and Scarhead "not sleeping" the night my f- Lucius tried to kill me._

  
  
The common room was surprisingly empty. I hurried up to my room and began undressing for bed when I heard something. The noises made my breath catch. Hermione was moaning but not in her sleep. Not her usual painful cries of sadness and torment. No, these moans were of pure pleasure.  
  
I had never been attacked by such a wide array of emotions at once. All of them hit me, initially, then came back one by one to stab me again. First was anger. My wand was clamped in my hand. I truly feared I was to break it. My head was spinning harder than from Jane's book. I crumbled to the ground, hyperventilating with rage. I bit into my lip and soon tasted soon tasted blood in my mouth. I released my wand to claw at the bedding beneath me.  
  
It wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Violence shook my body. I hurled myself into my dresser, letting it fall to the ground. The noise felt good to my ears. It drowned out the screams in my head… not to mention the noise from Hemione's room. The bed was next. The mattress, sheets, and pillows spilled to the floor. Having no other furniture, I ravaged them next. This could not compensate, I realized quickly. It would not stop my thoughts. It would not stop the noise. So, I pushed my head against the ruined pillows and screamed.  
  
I have never been a screaming person. Hermione had done so much to destroy all that I was. I didn't like this feeling. Screaming made me feel weak. I was not to be weak to my emotions. This was a Malfoy rule that I must always follow. The only one that really made sense. I found I could not stop myself from screaming once I had started, though. I clutched the pillow and bit into its material with all of my control. But I still felt it coming.  
  


_I hate how I had said no, more for you than for myself._

  
  
No… I could not cry. Malfoys didn't cry. I would not betray myself in such a way. I would die before I let a tear escape into the cruel world. Trembling hands grasped the carpeting as though anchoring me down. I would not be sucked away. My emotions would not capture me.  
  
I was choking, and I liked it. The pillow was choking me. And then, I realized my getaway. Death. They say only cowards consider suicide. I thought of it as more valiant than becoming susceptible to the world around me.  
  
But there was a problem… my wand was gone. I groped about my disheveled room but I could not see it. A sob caught my ears. And then it happened. A tear fell. It was like the screaming, I realized. Only it was worse. I could not hinder the process. The more I ground my fists into my eyes, the harder I cried.  
  


_I hate how I had nearly killed myself for you that night._

  
  
I crawled into my pile of bed dressings, taking guilty pleasure in my release. I could no longer hear the noise from next door, but in my head, I still heard the miserable sounds haunting me. I always would.  
  
As I wept, I felt a presence sweep into the room. I didn't look up to see who it was. I didn't need to. There was only one being, who would come to comfort me now. I did not recoil when I felt Lahela's touch on my back. My guardian angel had returned... or my sanity had departed.  
  
It didn't matter which. All was lost to me now.


	11. Lahela's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lahela's Song: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how when Lucius told me to lead Potter to the forest, I did it because I was jealous. I hate how when the dementor was sucking out his soul, I actually cried. I hate how I knew I was really crying for you because now you had no one.

Chapter 11 - Lahela's Song

  
  


_I hate you, Hermione._

  
  
A week passed slowly, agonizingly. My head and body felt distant from each other. Sometimes, I thought I was about to be sick, but I never quite knew why, what had set it off. I was like sand in an hourglass. More of me was slowly but steadily disappearing into the bottomless pit.  
  
I was losing my mind.  
  
When I did think - I had to think now and then - I mostly stuck to the me that was distant yet comprehensible. The proud Slytherin. The ruthless leader. And the sniveling coward. I was a walking contradiction.  
  
She told me once, "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.". But what did she know? She didn’t have the chance to love like I loved Hermione. She didn’t feel her heart shatter and cut into her, making her insides bleed.  
  
I never used to think of Lahela as lucky.  
  
Every morning, I took a long walk on the grounds, studying the grass. During my walk, I didn't worry about the cold. I didn't worry about anything. But worry flew to me, sooner than I had expected. Daray's claws dug into my shoulder. My heart stilled.  
  
Lucius wanted another meeting with me. To finish the job, of course. The worst part was, I didn't care. Once the initial shock wore off, I decided to meet with him. If he wanted to kill me, fine. I would take him down with me. And then, my suffering would be over.  
  
I thought I knew what my Father would look like when I saw him, but it wasn't what I expected. His face was calm: not angry, no cold smile. I lowered my wand in confusion. His was not in sight.  
  
"You came, Draco..." Lucius said.  
  
"Obviously," I snapped. His expression didn't even flicker.  
  
"I must say, I'm surprised," Lucius continued, as if I had not spoken. "You're either braver than I thought or very foolish."  
  
"I wonder which," I said. I raised my wand back on him, trying to steel myself for the killing curse.  
  
"Now, let's not be rash, boy," Lucius said. "I've only come to you with a request."  
  
“I’m not doing any favors for you or your Lord of Darkness,” I said, simply.  
  
"But you have it all wrong, Draco," Lucius said, his mouth curling into the smile I had expected. "No, truthfully, the one, who will gain the real favor, is you." He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an object that resembled a potion bottle: Désir de la Sirène.  
  
"Where did you get that?" I demanded. It was nearly impossible to make correctly. I knew there was no way my Father had created it.  
  
"It's a gift from a colleague," Lucius said, watching me carefully. "For you, Draco... to rid you of the one you despise the most."  
  
My eyes flashed to him, thinking for a moment that he was the foolish one. Then, I realized who he really meant. "Potter," I said.  
  
"Yes," Lucius said. "Use this to bring Potter to me, and I'll- _We’ll_ never bother you again.”  
  
I put out my hand. I didn’t know why he wanted Potter - well, I knew why, but I didn’t know what he was planning on doing exactly. I didn’t care. At that moment, I knew I would do _anything_ to get Potter away from Hermione. Not that the prospect of never dealing with my Father and his filthy master again wasn’t reason enough.  
  
My mind felt completely clear. I had never felt so determined in my entire life. I pretended like everything had gone back to normal. I went to all my classes for the first time in more than a week. I spent a few hours studying in front of the fireplace. And when Potter and Hermione came into the common room, I gave them a simple smile and bid them goodnight.  
  


_I hate how when Lucius told me to lead Potter into the forest, I did it because I was jealous._

  
  
I listened to the murmur of their voices until they faded away. I rested the tip of my wand on the Désir de la Sirène and closed my eyes to begin the enchantment. I tried to focus on Potter and Hermione. At first, I only saw their faces, but soon, I saw them kissing passionately. By the time I felt the spell had settled, I was crying again. Hermione had turned me into a blithering idiot.  
  
I wiped away the tears by myself; Lahela wouldn't comfort me now.  
  
I twisted the shell at the top of the bottle in my hands. Désir de la Sirène would release a powerful sleeping powder made of mermaid scales. It had enough power to create another world in the afflicted's minds. I wondered morbidly what Potter and Hermione's dream world would be like.  
  
I opened my door slightly, set the object outside of it, and waited. I had to be certain Hermione would stay asleep while I carried Potter away into the night. I watched the scales flutter about in the iced and translucent chamber. Soon, the powder departed from the openings in the form of mist. I began to shiver, perhaps from nervousness, perhaps from the aversion of my spirit to the sins I was committing. Or maybe I just wished that _I_ could be swept away into some version of paradise.  
  
I waited a few more minutes still before leaving the cold aura of my room for the warmth of the fire near the sleeping lovers. I looked at their peaceful faces and felt ill. I considered simply eliminating Potter, myself. I had a bottle of what I believed to be strong poison on my bedside table, after all. I'd kept it in hopes that it might be useful one day.  
  
But I didn’t want to go back to my room. I didn’t want to face the cold spirit, who part of me knew was right. I simply knelt next to the couch and took Hermione’s hand in my own. "I'm sorry, Hermione." I looked away from her in shame and gazed into the fire, instead. "But I can't let him have you... it hurts too much to bear."  
  
I got up quickly, feeling those wretched tears attacking. There was no time for that. There was never time for that.  
  
Suddenly, I bent back down only to press my lips against those of my love, my Hermione. Something made me doubt if I would ever see her again. Even if I returned, I would never see this peaceful, calm expression on her face. Maybe she'd even kill me herself.  
  
As much as I protested, a tear fell as I kissed Hermione. It was when I pulled away to grind my fists into my eyes that I saw something strange: there were four short scars on Hermione’s neck.  
  
I reached out longing to touch her, but then, I remembered my mission. Hermione had been in so many battles; it was probably nothing. She kept her long hair down during the day, so I just hadn't seen them before. Still, I cursed them for tainting the neck of my love.  
  
I encountered no problems in getting Potter out of the castle and into the dark night. I _was_ Head Boy, after all. I could have just lied. I could have said I was taking him to the Hospital Wing. They’d have to believe me. They’d want to believe me.  
  
As I drew near the Forbidden Forest, I got a sick thrill. "Draco..." Someone was singing.  
  
"And I am... calling you. I am always calling you. Oh, won't you... hear my prayer,  
whispered softly in your ear." But there was no way it could be. My mind had really forsaken me if I could hear her voice again. Yet the haunting song persisted.  
  
"I am... watching you. I am always watching you. Oh, won't you... hear my prayer, whispered softly in your ear." The singing grew louder as I entered the misty forest. I had only ever heard this voice, this song, once before. And then I realized what a mistake I was making.  
  
"I am always haunting you."  
  
And it was too late.  
  
“Draco,” Lucius whispered, beckoning me closer. “You have done me proud.”  
  
The haunting song was gone; Lahela had abandoned me.  
  
“After the reckless job you did with the mudblood's sister, I wasn't expecting much,” he continued. "But you have more than distaste for Potter, am I correct?"  
  
Mudblood's... sister? "I have no fucking clue what you are talking about,” I said, truthfully. I was shaking, scared and confused… and without my guardian angel.  
  
"The mudblood Granger..." Lucius explained, looking as though it should be obvious. "You released her sister. I'm still baffled by that poor decision, but it matters not, now. We've arrived at the same end."  
  
I stared at him. Hermione's sister... that had been _Hermione's_ sister?  
  
Lucius frowned and said, “We have no time for your foolishness, boy. The dementors are approaching."  
  
I froze. Dementors… No, why did they have to bring dementors? And then, I realized what they had planned for Potter. They weren’t going to kill him. No, no… they had a far worse idea in their dark minds. They were going to suck out his soul.  
  
Voldemort floated out of the darkness in a cloud of black mist. He was smiling, red eyes filled with malice. I had to draw in a deep breath to keep from running or doing something equally foolish. I lost it, however, as I felt a new cold take me over.  
  
 _Please, no... Lahela..._  
  
I was no longer in the woods. I was back in the common room watching Potter and Hermione groping each other like lovesick animals. I hyperventilated as I watched them making love in horror. The tears came with little resistance this time, and no kind spirit came to console me.  
  
 _Lahela... Lahela!_  
  
But that wasn't my worst memory. That wasn't what I feared when dementors were near. After years of teasing Potter, I was only hiding my own dark weakness. My first - and greatest - crime.  
  
I was back by the pond. The pond enveloped in a small collection of trees. _Our_ place, Lahela’s and mine. And I knew what was to come next.  
  
I had been barely 13 when I became friends with Lahela. Fresh from my second year at Hogwarts, I had felt I knew everything. I wasn’t allowed to been seen with muggles nor did I want to be. But there was something special about Lahela.  
  
I followed her to the pond during a time my father was out of the manor. She was swimming, peacefully. I wanted to curse her for being happy when I - I, who knew everything, was miserable. But I didn't know then that Lahela was anything but happy.  
  
After a few days, Lahela spotted me spying and invited me to swim with her. I balked at her at once. It was against everything I had ever been taught. Maybe that’s why it felt so perfect. The water was so cool during that hot summer, the last before my real training was to begin. It felt wonderful to my skin. _Everything_ about that summer felt that way.  
  
Until my Father came home...  
  
I had shamed him. And my mother had shamed him for letting me get away with it. He forbade me to ever see her again, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me. His threats seemed idle, and I was feeling rebellious.  
  
I ran off one night and met Lahela at the pond. I knew she'd be there, somehow. I didn’t tell her why I hadn’t been around lately, and she didn’t ask. I told her I wanted to be rebellious, and she let me be.  
  
My Father didn’t just kill her. In fact, _he_ didn’t kill her at all. I did. My father placed me under the Imperius Curse and sent me to find Lahela. She smiled at me. She trusted me down to the end. And even longer, perhaps. Her last words were, “It’s not you, is it?”  
  
Now, as I heard the words again and watched Lahela's blood flow onto my hands, I couldn't stop myself from screaming. Then, suddenly, I was torn from my pain, and for a sudden, desperate moment, I had no idea where I was or what was happening.  
  
I saw the red eyes of the man - or creature - that pulled me from my worst memories. He smiled, chilling me to the bone. I wanted to run, but my legs were so weak. Where was I to run anyways? I could never escape my torment.  
  
I became aware of something flailing next to me. It was Potter, now bound magically to a tree. He had already broken the Désir de la Sirène, an incredible task. Nonchalantly, Voldemort took Potter’s wand and examined it for a moment before crushing it beneath his foot.  
  
Potter cried out, as though the loss of his wand had caused physical pain. His green eyes found mine, and the rage in them hurt me bodily, too. “Malfoy!” Potter screamed. “I knew it! And Hermione-she trusted you! She’s probably dead for it!”  
  
"I didn't... I wouldn't," I cried. But Potter's words were haunting me from the inside. She trusted you… And I realized I was the worst person on earth. I was worse even than the dark wizards before me. For they were simply unable to love, while I would do such things to the one I did love.  
  
Killing Potter, the one Hermione loved with all she had left, was at least as bad as putting my wand to her own heart. It would kill her either way.  
  


_I hate how when the dementor was sucking out his soul, I actually cried._

  
  
Potter fought, but he was nothing without his wand, weak from the dementors pressing ever closer. “Expecto Patronum!” Potter shouted, fervently.  
  
I couldn’t help him. Drained nearly to my end, Voldemort had also bound my magic when he had saved me from the dementor's grip. It wouldn’t matter anyway. I was powerless.  
  
“Expecto Patronum!”  
  
It wouldn’t work. He could do it a thousand times; it would make no difference. No degree of magic could break through Voldemort’s binding.  
  
“Expecto Patronum!!”  
  
A silvery ghost of a stag ran at the dementor but faded before it got anywhere near the beast. It was a miracle. It was a miracle, but it hadn’t helped Potter one bit.  
  
The dementor reached with one of its scaly gray hands and grabbed Potter’s shoulder. It leaned forward and lowered its hood. I felt tears flow out of my eyes. It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen.  
  
The tears came in streams as the dementor’s mouth clamped onto Potter’s. Hermione would be… there wasn’t a word for it.  
  


_I hate how I knew I was really crying for you, because now, you had no one._

  
  
The Dark Lord and his servant were watching with a terrifying glee. With their eyes away from me, I did the only thing I could.  
  
I ran.


	12. Shock and Hysteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shock and Hysteria: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying that night when I told you about Potter. I hate how you blamed me for it. I hate how you were right.

Chapter 12 - Shock and Hysteria

 

_I hate you, Hermione._

  
I've made mistakes before, sure. I've done bad things. When I was young, I killed the girl I loved. Well, maybe I could blame my Father for that one, right? But _this_ was my fault. Wholly and completely. I brought Potter to a fate worse than death.  
  
Never had I regretted anything more. I was the worst person on earth.  
  
I was exhausted, but I just kept running, racing towards the castle. I swore to myself that I would never enter that bloody forest again. And then, I decided there was only one thing I could do: I would tell Dumbledore everything.  
  
I couldn't tell Hermione - I'd have to tell Hermione, but I couldn't let her go off after Potter. I would have to be ready to fight for my life. Not because I deserved to live, but because I would have to keep her from leaving. Or worse.  
  
My stomach turned at the thought of Hermione by the window again. Whether she killed herself or killed me, my life would be over. She was my everything. I didn't fall in love easily; it had only happened twice. This time, I'd fought it for over a year, but the fighting had only delayed my ultimate downfall. She was now my beating heart.  
  
The castle was quiet, cold. I could hear my heavy breathing echoing off the stone. My footsteps sounded loudly, too. I would surely get caught. I needed to keep running, no matter what.  
  
When I was near the statue, sure I'd heard someone close behind me, I searched my mind for the Headmaster's password. It seemed that all knowledge that wasn't vital had left my brain. But this _was_ vital, damn it.  
  
I stopped dead in my tracks. Dumbledore was standing in front of me, looking grim.  
  
"What are you doing here, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.  
  
I had never seen him so angry, so dangerous. I was suddenly very afraid for my life. Could I be forced into death before I was able to apologize to Hermione? Would I be willing to beg for that chance?  
  
I fell forward onto my knees in fatigue, wincing in pain as stone met body. "It's my fault, it's my fault. I brought Potter to the Forbidden Forest for my father... I didn't know. I didn't. But it was still my fault."  
  
I was hyperventilating, unable to let it all out without a struggle. Dumbledore grabbed my shoulder with incredible strength, forcing me to look up at him. "What happened? Who was there?'  
  
I swallowed. "Voldemort."  
  
Dumbledore let go of me and dashed down the corridor. I rose, still breathless and followed after him. "Wait, Sir!"  
  
I only caught up to find Dumbledore and Snape talking very quickly. "The Dark Lord has Potter in the forest?" Snape asked with more shock in his dark eyes than I had ever seen.  
  
"Collect Draco Malfoy, then alert the other Heads of Houses, Severus," Dumbledore instructed. "Keep the students safe. Follow only once you you've done so."  
  
"Wait," I said, gasping for breath. "It's too... it's too late."  
  
"No," Snape said, disbelieving. "It cannot be."  
  
Dumbledore grabbed me with both hands and looked me straight in the eyes. "Harry Potter is dead?"  
  
"No," I said. "It's worse..."  
  
"Worse?!" Snape shouted. "How could it be worse?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes were frigid. "A dementor."  
  
"Yes," I said. "I saw it... it kissed... it's too late."  
  
"You stupid boy!" Snape cried out. I cringed in alarm. I never expected to hear Snape yell at me that way. "You've ruined it all!"  
  
"I didn't know," I snapped back at him. "I brought him to my Father, but I didn't know what was going to happen after that."  
  
"What did you expect?!" Snape shouted.  
  
"I-I don't know," I said, falling forward. Dumbledore was no longer holding me up. "But my father demanded it. He said... he'd leave me alone after that. I could be free of him."  
  
"And it was worth sacrificing Harry's life for yours?" Dumbledore said, coldly.  
  
"I didn't see any other way..."  
  
"You could have come to _me_!" Snape said. "I would have helped you!"  
  
"You would have told my father," I explained, certain. Snape gave a quick shake of the head. My eyes widened with the truth: I had misjudged him.  
  
"You had other options, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said.  
  
"I..."  
  
Dumbledore raised his hand. "Not another word. I will deal with this later. I must retrieve Harry's body, while there is still time." He turned to Snape. "Watch him for me, Severus. If I do not return by sunrise, speak with Minerva. I do not want this to create a panic."  
  
I knew that Dumbledore, as smart as he was, couldn't have possibly believed that this would not create a panic, even if left alone until morning. Still, he was gone.  
  
I swallowed. "Snape..." I looked up at him. There was disgust in his eyes. There was no help for me from his presence now. If only I had trusted him when it counted.  
  
I pulled myself up, aching from my legs hitting the cold stone floor a second time. Taking a deep breath, I turned. Snape grabbed my arm. "You are to stay here."  
  
I looked back at him. "I can't stay here," I said. "I must see Hermione."  
  
"You've done enough damage," Snape said, frigidly.  
  
"No, I have to... I must be the one to tell her," I said.  
  
Snape's eyes went wide once again. "Are you bleeding mad, Draco? You have seen what happened to her. Do you wish to push her over the edge?"  
  
"I want to apologize before it is too late," I said.  
  
"It is too late, boy!" Snape shouted. "Do you know what she will do when you tell her what you've done? She'll turn her wand against you, Draco. She'll kill you, if she has it in her, and I don't doubt she will now!"  
  
"I don't care!" I snapped. "I don't care if I die now! I just need to see her."  
  
Snape studied me, shaking his head. "You... you've..."  
  
I closed my eyes. "I'm in love with her."  
  
"You... you _foolish_ boy." My eyes shot open at his painful tone. Snape was shaking with emotion, his eyes shining. He let go of my arm and turned away from me, speeding down the corridor, cloak billowing. I only watched him for a moment.  
  
I dashed up the stairs, a noise ringing in my ears. Was it my heart beat, trying to convince me that I was still alive? Was it the clock, ticking down my remaining life? Was it Potter's voice, screaming out that blessed last spell? Or was it Lahela, calling out my name?  
  
No, I couldn't allow myself to believe she'd be waiting for me where I was going.  
  
My hand touched the chipped stone, and my body stilled. What would be beyond this wall? I had to be prepared for anything. To save her... to fight her. Whatever it took until I apologized. Then, she could kill me. I would let her.  
  
Hermione was on the floor, waking. She blinked at the shattered Désir de la Sirène. Though now awake, I realized she might be still half within the dream: confused, alone, and weak. Aching, I called out her name.  
  
Hermione snapped her head in my direction her eyes wide. "You!' Her voice was ragged. She started to get up, and I was by her side. She pushed at me. "Get away! Let me go!"  
  


_I hate how I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from crying that night when I told you about Potter._

  
"I can't..." I breathed, tears in my voice. I pulled her closer to me. "Hermione, I have to tell you..."  
  
"I said let _go_ , Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. She flailed around in my arms, searching the room with her eyes. "Harry? Harry help me."  
  
I bit my tongue, holding back those tears. I didn't have any right to cry. "Hermione..."  
  
"Don't _call_ me that," Hermione snapped at me. "Harry, _please_..."she gasped.  
  
"He isn't here," I said. She stopped moving. I loosened my grip on her for a moment, and suddenly, I was the one on the floor.  
  
Hermione was leaning over me, her wand at my neck. " What have you done, Draco?! Where is Harry?!" she demanded. "If you don't tell me, I'll kill you... I swear I will."  
  
"I won't fight back," I said, honestly. "Take my wand, if you have to."  
  
Her brown eyes looked into mine, the anger banished for an instant by surprise and worry. "No... I can't believe you. Why are you doing this!? What's happened to..." She was having trouble breathing. "Tell me right now!" Hermione screamed.  
  
I took in a hurried breath. "I took him to the forest."  
  
"Why on earth?!" Her voice was echoing off the walls.  
  
"My father," I answered. "He told me to bring Potter there."  
  
"I knew it!" Hermione shouted. "I knew you would be just like him, in the end! Take me there now!"  
  
"I can't," I said, weakly.  
  
"You will... right this instant... or you will breathe your last breath, Draco Malfoy," Hermione pledged.  
  
I swallowed. "I'm sorry," I whispered.  
  
The surprise was back in her eyes. " _What_...?" she breathed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione," I said. Now only fear. "But it's too late."  
  
"Harry is... Harry is..." She was shaking, sliding off of me.  
  
"It was a dementor," I said, sitting up slowly, ready to catch her.  
  
"No..."  
  
"I didn't know it was going to happen, but it's still my fault," I said, quickly. "And I'm so, so sorry, Hermione."  
  


_I hate how you blamed me for it._

  
"No... no.. _no_!" Hermione screamed, hysterical. She was on her feet pointing her wand at me. "You did this! You took away Harry's _soul_!"  
  
"I didn't know, Hermione," I insisted. "I had no idea this would happen. I wouldn't have given anyone to a dementor."  
  
"Cut the rubbish, Malfoy!" Hermione cried. "It won't save you."  
  
"I'm serious!" I shouted. "But if you want to kill me, just do it. I won't stop you. I just... I love..."  
  
Hermione's wand slipped out of her hand. She cried out, her free hand cradling her stomach. She wasn't breathing. She hit the floor.  
  
"Hermione!" I pulled her into my arms, and she wasn't fighting this time. Her eyes were distant and bloodshot. "Hermione!" I shook her. " _Hermione_!" Finally, she blinked.  
  
"Something's... not... right," Hermione breathed. Lifting her head, she looked towards her spread legs. She let out another shriek. There was blood coming from her. Far too much blood. "Take me... to Madam Pomfrey... _now_."  
  
I lifted her up. "What is it?" I asked, desperately, heading for the door.  
  
Her eyelids were fluttering. "I'm... pregnant..."

_I hate how you were right._


	13. Loss and Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss and Resolve: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how you ended up being pregnant with Potter's child. I hate how you had a miscarriage when you found out about Potter. I hate how when you cried in my arms that night, I cried too.

 

Chapter 13 – Loss and Resolve

_I hate you, Hermione._

The hallway was quiet and dark. I was staring out into the abyss, thinking strange thoughts. What if the floor underneath me tilted, and I fell down into the darkness? Could I ever be saved? Would I ever even hit the ground? Would I die, or would I keep falling forever?

  
_I hate how you ended up being pregnant with Potter's child._

  
Hermione was pregnant. Her short affair with Potter had left her with child. Part of my mind accepted it as fact, but the other part rebelled. It didn’t actually make sense. None of it did. This whole bloody year had the markings of a long nightmare I just couldn’t seem to wake from. Weasley’s death. Hermione suicidal. Potter soulless. Hermione _pregnant_.  
  
It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be the same year I became Head Boy. The same year Hermione became Head Girl. That year had stretched impossible long into the blurring of my nightmare. When had it started? At which point did it stop being real?  
  
The only thing that made some sense about this was my role. My selfishness. My envy. These things were nothing new. But how could petty Draco Malfoy have caused this nightmare scenario to become real?  
  
A lit wand turned the corner out of the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey came towards me. “Mr. Malfoy...” she breathed. Her face was serious, and it pulled me out of my contemplation.  
  
I straightened out of my protective pose. “What is it?” I demanded. “What has happened? Is she all right?”  
  
“Miss Granger is… stable,” she said. “But her emotional state is quite another story.”  
  
“She’s all right, though?” I asked again. “She was bleeding…”  
  
Madame Pomfrey frowned, and her eyes looked weary and wet. “In all my years, I’ve never had to deliver _this_ news, but… the child did not survive.”  
  
“What?” I heard myself say. In all my thoughts out in the hallway, I had never once considered Hermione surviving without the child. It was always Hermione dead. I’d pictured her, ashen and cold, lying in bed with bloodied sheets. The scene was imprinted into my mind.  
  
Madame Pomfrey put a hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry, boy.”  
  
I cringed away from her. As I stared into her pitying gaze, I realized she thought me to be the father. I laughed a strange, mad laugh.  
  
“Perhaps, you should come in and rest,” Madame Pomfrey offered, her hand reaching out to me.  
  
I tried to take a deep breath. “I am _fine_." I turned and started walking into the darkness.  
  
“Wait, Mr. Malfoy!” Madame Pomfrey called after me in astonishment. “She’s… asking for you.”  
  
I stopped. “What?”  
  
“Miss Granger is asking for you…” Madame Pomfrey repeated. “I understand how you might feel like being alone in your misery, but she _needs you_ to be strong."  
  
I looked back at her and the light from her wand, still alive in the darkness. “She doesn’t need _me_ ,” I said, but I walked towards her.  
  
“Miss Granger refuses the dreamless sleep potion,” Madame Pomfrey continued. “She needs your comfort and protection. You cannot leave her alone to wallow in your own grief.”  
  
I sighed. She didn’t know the truth of the situation, but somehow, Madame Pomfrey was still right. If Hermione was really asking for me, I couldn’t deny her. Though all I could imagine were her heated eyes, glaring fire at me back in the common room. The only reason I could come up with for Hermione wanting to see me was to kill me. But even if that were the case, I couldn’t deny her that either.

 

_I hate how you had a miscarriage when you found out about Potter._

  
I followed Madame Pomfrey into the room. My feet felt like lead. I half-expected my footsteps to bang against the stone. Curtains roped off part of the room on the left, and as we walked through them, I saw Hermione sitting propped up in the last bed. Her eyes were hollow.  
  
I just stood there for a moment, watching her. Madame Pomfrey brushed past me and touched Hermione’s hand. “Dear, I brought Mr. Malfoy to see you. He was waiting just outside, like I told you,” Madame Pomfrey said with all the comfort of a loving Aunt.  
  
Hermione blinked once, and then, her eyes flashed to me. I swallowed. There was no anger there. That scared me.  
  
“Thank you,” Hermione breathed.  
  
Madame Pomfrey nodded and straightened. She walked over to me. “I’ll be right in my office if you need anything,” she said, quietly. “We’ll try the potion again later.” She waved her wand, and the curtains closed around Hermione and me. Hermione’s wand was lit on her bedside table.  
  
Hermione looked away from me. She was silent for a long time. “I don’t really want you here,” she said.  
  
“Oh,” I said, lamely.  
  
Hermione looked at me again. “It’s just that you’re all I have now,” she said, coldly. “What else was I to do? Who could I turn to?”  
  
“Perhaps… Ginny?” I offered.  
  
“What right do I have to put this on her?” Hermione said. “She’s been in love with Harry since the day they met. She’s just lost her brother. I can’t.”  
  
“Hermione…” I started.  
  
She groaned at my voice speaking her name. “What have you to say now, Malfoy?” Hermione said, heatedly. “What can you do now to destroy everything I love? There’s nearly nothing left.” Her voice filled with pain at her last sentence.  
  
I surged automatically towards her, wrapping her into my embrace. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled into her shoulder.  
  
“Don’t touch me,” Hermione cried. But she didn’t fight me. In fact, she leaned into me, and I could feel her trembling with the force of her quiet sobs. “The baby… the baby’s gone.”  
  
“I know,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, Hermione. So sorry.”  
  
“I just wanted some little piece of him to carry on,” Hermione whispered. “And Harry… he always wanted a family. We thought we could be a family for the baby.”  
  
“I had no idea,” I said. But of course, I had no idea. Why would she share this with me? And it wasn’t hard to cast glamours to cover a pregnancy early on. “I would have…” But I had no idea what I would have done. What could I have done? And what could I say now? That I wouldn’t have taken Potter into the woods if I had known? How on Earth would that help?  
  
…the worst part was I didn’t know if it would have mattered to me at all.  
  
“What will I do, Draco?” Hermione cried. “I’ve lost everything.”  
  
“I… I don’t know,” I said. I could feel my chest moving strangely against her, and I realized I was crying, too. “But we’ll figure something out. I promise.”  


 

_I hate how when you cried in my arms that night, I cried too._

  
Hermione didn’t say anything more; she just cried softly in my arms. I rested my face in her hair and let my escaping tears disappear into her curls. I breathed in her warm scent and promised myself I would do anything she asked of me. Things had come a long way since 7th year had begun, and I knew I had no life away from Hermione Granger. She was my entire world, and I had to protect her.  
  
Madame Pomfrey soon peeked in through a gap in the corner. She slid in, and I saw her glance at the window next to the bed. “Almost dawn,” she murmured. She slipped a bottle from her pocket. “Do you think you can get her to take this?”  
  
I carefully reached out a hand to take the bottle, and Madame Pomfrey left us alone again. I thought Hermione might already be asleep, but she twitched oddly against me. “Hermione?” I said.  
  
“What?” she mumbled. I shook her lightly, and she looked up. “What?”  
  
I took the cork out with my other hand. “Drink this,” I said.  
  
For a moment, Hermione glared at the bottle suspiciously, but her expression soon softened with tiredness, and she allowed me to tilt the bottle past her lips.  
  
“I hate you, Draco,” Hermione whispered. She fell back into my arms fast asleep.  
  
“I know,” I sighed.  
  
I held her as she slept, and I watched the light coming through the window from the rising sun touch the stone floor. I wondered what would happen now. Students would be waking soon. What would they be told? I thought vaguely of Cedric Diggory’s death in 4th year. Dumbledore had given a speech. He had spoken the truth, or what I thought to be the truth. Would he be honest now?  
In spite of my awkward position, I’d almost fallen asleep, myself, when the curtain flew open.  
  
Snape took in the sight in front of him with a shocked expression. “Draco…”  
  
“Yes?” I asked, fighting a yawn. “What is it?  
  
“I thought you’d… left,” Snape said.  
  
“She fell asleep,” I said. “I couldn’t leave her.”  
  
“Left the school,” Snape elaborated.  
  
I blinked. “What?”  
  
“You weren’t in your dorm,” Snape sighed, crossly. “I feared the worst.”  
  
“I wouldn’t leave her,” I said.  
  
Snape shook his head. “It matters not,” he said. “The Headmaster has yet to return.”  
  
“No,” I said. “That can’t be.” Just like with Hermione, I hadn’t been able to imagine anything but Dumbledore returning with Harry’s body, looking grim.  
  
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Snape said. “And something must be done at once!”  
  
Hermione lifted her head. “What’s going on?” she asked, groggily.  
  
Snape’s expression flashed to alarm, but it was gone before I could be sure I’d seen it.  
  
“Dumbledore’s… been gone a long time,” I said, carefully.  
  
If it was possible, Hermione’s face turned sadder. “Oh, no,” she said. Hermione was upset but resigned. She wasn’t the least bit surprised. “I… I knew this would happen.”  
  
“How could you possibly…?” I started.  
  
Hermione sighed. “Harry worried that if it happened… Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to do it.”  
  
Snape made a noise. “That’s it, then?”  
  
Hermione looked up at him. “I’m sure of it.”  
  
“Wh-what are the two of you talking about?” I demanded.  
  
Hermione gave me a look that clearly told me she didn’t think I deserved to know, but she spoke the words anyhow. “Voldemort wanted Harry’s body. His was growing weak, and he always assumed Harry’s power came from their connection. Without a soul, Harry isn’t Harry anymore. And if Dumbledore got there too late…”  
  
“He’d have to kill Potter,” Snape finished.  
  
“Yes,” Hermione whispered. “And Dumbledore… he couldn’t do it.”  
  
“I refuse to accept that,” Snape barked. “Dumbledore isn’t weak!”  
  
I sent him a glare for daring to yell at Hermione in her current state, but she defended herself. “You may not understand what it’s like to love someone, but Dumbledore loved Harry very much. He wouldn’t want to destroy the body that looked just like him. That isn’t weak."  
  
“He’d get up the nerve,” Snape countered.  
  
“Even a moment’s hesitation could be it with Voldemort,” Hermione said.  
  
“I’ll get to the bottom of this!” Snape turned and with a flip of his cape strode out of the room. Hermione glared after him, until he could no longer be seen, then her face fell into her hands.  
  
“Hermione…?” I tried, slipping my sore arm back around her.  
  
“I don’t even have any tears left,” Hermione said. “There’s nothing left in me.”  
  
I wanted to tell her that wasn’t true, but what right did I have to say that?  
“What about your family?” I realized aloud.  
  
Hermione pulled away and looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “Madame Pomfrey offered to owl my parents, but I can’t - I just can’t let her do it,” she said.  
  
“Why not?” I asked.  
  
“They’ll want to come here,” Hermione explained, almost hysterically. “They’ll want to be here for me. I’m not sure they even could, but they would try. And everything’s going crazy!”  
  
“Maybe you should go home,” I said, pushing away some hair from her face and letting my fingers get caught in the curls. “You might be safer.”  
  
Hermione sent me a glare, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I’d said or what I’d done. “I’m not running away.” I sighed. Stubborn Gryffindor.  
  
“You have to consider it, Hermione,” I pleaded. “Right now, you’re weak and, we don’t know what’s coming next. This could be it for all of us.”  
  
“So, I should just go home and wait to die?!” Hermione snapped. “ _No way_. I don’t know about you, Draco Malfoy, but _I_ won’t go down without a fight. Even if there’s no hope of beating him, I’d rather die fighting!”  
  
Of course, she would.  
  
“I haven’t forgiven you,” Hermione continued. “I’ll _never_ forgive you.” She took in a deep breath. “But if you stay and fight for redemption, I’ll let you live.”  
  
I smirked. “All right,” I said. “Then, I’ll fight, too.” Little did she know, I would have had it no other way.


	14. Wild Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild Hope: I hate you, Hermione. I hate how your former friend Potter killed off Voldemort and became the new Dark Lord. I hate how he started the greatest wizard war in history. I hate how you threatened to kill me if I joined Potter… not that I would have.

Chapter 14 – Wild Hope

  
_I hate you, Hermione._   


  
It took about a week for Hermione to recover. I spent a lot of time with her at the beginning, but soon, there were others visiting her. Ginny and Longbottom came together the first time, and then, they started taking shifts. I started to suspect it was to keep me away, though I was sure they didn’t know what had really happened. Longbottom had never been much of a wizard, but I felt sure Ginny could have cursed me to bits if my back was turned. As she would have, if she’d known.  
  
Once, when I finally found Hermione alone, I settled into a chair just in time to see Longbottom and Luna coming in the room. I groaned and stood. Longbottom and I shared a mutual glare, but when I started to leave Luna grabbed my hand.  
  
“Hello, Draco,” Luna said in her ethereal voice.  
  
“Uh, hi,” I said. I was watching Longbottom take my seat around her.  
  
“The oddest thing,” Luna continued. “I had a dream about you last night.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” I said, barely paying attention. Hermione and Longbottom were deep in conversation; I wanted to hear.  
  
“Yes,” Luna said. “It was very strange. We were swimming in the lake. And you saved me from the Giant Squid.”  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“It was strange, because I’ve never known the Giant Squid to be particularly vicious.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“…Draco?” Something in her voice sounded sad, so I looked at her. She smiled. “Have you had any interesting dreams lately?”  
  
“No,” I said. “I haven’t been dreaming at all.”  
  
“Oh,” Luna said, sounding disappointed. “Why do you think that would be?”  
  
“I’ve been taking a potion,” I explained.  
  
“You mean you’ve chosen not to have them?” Luna asked. “Why ever would you do that?”  
  
“I don’t like my dreams,” I told her.  
  
“How sad,” Luna said. “I think dreams are so fascinating. Sometimes, they even give you things you couldn’t have any other way.” Then, she shrugged and finally let go of my hand. I watched Luna go over to Hermione and wrap her in a hug, before I turned to leave.  
  
Our common room was quiet. I remember how I used to love the quiet. Now, it drove me mad. I worried about Hermione. I relived the things I had seen. I wanted to take action. All the while knowing that wasn’t like me at all. I didn’t get involved. I covered my own ass. That was who I was. That’s who I’d always been. I was losing that part of myself. I was losing everything I knew as me.  
  
Snape’s return was the final straw. I cornered him in his office. “What’s going on?” I demanded. “Where have you been?”  
  
Snape looked both exhausted and exasperated. “I do not answer to you, Draco. Don’t gawk at me as if I were the cause of all this madness.”  
  
“Oh, _fuck_ ,” I snapped. Then, I started to storm off.  
  
“Wait,” Snape said. I froze.

_I hate how your former friend Potter killed off Voldemort and became the new Dark Lord._  


  
  
“It’s true,” Snape continued. “Dumbledore is dead. I found his body in the Forbidden Forest. And…” He gave an irritated sigh. “The Dark Lord’s as well.”  
  
“ _What_?” I gaped.  
  
“Listen, Draco, I-”  
  
McGonagall’s magically amplified voice broke into our conversation. “All staff and students please report to the Great Hall at once.”  
  
Snape groaned again. He moved past me through the door.  
  
“Hold on,” I called after him. “Where are you going now?”  
  
“Are you deaf?” Snape snapped. He continued on his way.  
  
“Stop. Wait. You - You owe it to me, Snape!” I blurted.  
  
Snape spun instantly and set his furious black eyes on me. “ _I_ owe _you_?” he spat. “You blithering fool. I used to think you were clever, Draco. Now, look what you’ve done. And you have the gall to say that _I_ owe _you_? You’ve wrecked everything. Your life and mine included.”  
  
“I…”  
  
“No, for once in your life, _listen_ , Draco!” Snape shouted. “All our plans have been uprooted! Everything I’ve fought for! You have to take responsibility for yourself now. I’m not going to be here to save you.”  
  
He left me standing there, broken.  
  
By the time I arrived in the Great Hall, McGonagall was already speaking. She was telling the students what they’d only been left to guess for the past week. Harry was gone. Dumbledore was dead. She spared them some of the details, my involvement included, but she was truthful.  
  
The hall stood together, the house tables having been cleared away. They quickly erupted into frightened chatter when McGonagall paused. I took the opportunity to slip through the crowd until I spotted Hermione. I reached for her.  
  
Sparks burst in front of us. McGonagall moved away quickly, her wand pointed to the site of the magic. The front of the hall blurred, then came back into focus with an image of Potter’s face enlarged. The hall went quiet.  
  
She wouldn’t let me take her hand. Out of all of us, Hermione walked forward to the image projected in front of us. She walked bravely and alone. I wanted to tell her she could still be brave and not alone, but I knew it would do any good.  
  
The image of Potter smirked, and it was clear to me that he was no longer who he used to be. “Greetings, Hogwarts students.”  
  
I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me, that I thought came from Ginny. I was surprised, too. It sounded just like him. But of course, it would. The dementor had only stolen Potter’s soul, not his voice.  
  
“I assume you’ve been informed of your Headmaster’s… untimely end,” Potter said. He chuckled. “Well, now, you will know. I was the one who killed him.”  
  
There were gasps. A girl started sobbing in the crowd. I glanced behind me at Ginny, who was tear-free, fists clenched. My eyes found Luna holding onto Longbottom’s arm. She, too, was not crying, though her eyes were shining. When I finally noticed the crying girl, I recognized her as the Hufflepuff from Weasley’s funeral. Susan Bones. I suppose I had known her given name after all.  
  
“Dumbledore was weak. Old and fragile. Not fit to be your honorary monarch,” Potter continued. “It was always me. The chosen one, you called me. You all rallied behind me. Some more than others. But you all believed in me. Well, now’s your chance to prove your loyalty. There is no way around it. I am now, and will forever remain, the strongest wizard alive. Your choice is simple: join me… or die. There will be no war.”  
  
I watched Hermione more than Potter. Her chest rising and falling. She was trying so hard to stay steady. What was she thinking? How was the image of her longtime friend, hero of Gryffindor, saying these words making her feel? My heart was surging, wanting to hold her, put my arms around her from behind and crush her into my aching chest, protect her from what was happening. But she didn’t need me.  
  
“I encourage you to weigh the consequences of being one of _very_ few to rise against me. As you now know, I will not hesitate to strike down _old comrades_ to prove my power. And speaking of that, I will let you get back to your… _mourning_.” He smirked again. “Expect to hear from me again. And Hermione Granger.” Hermione let out a small gasp. “I cannot tell you how _sorry_ I am for your loss. But how I will _rejoice_ that your filthy blood will not soil the life of a newborn wizard.”  
  
 _That fucking -_  
  
Potter’s image faded away.  
  
Everything was quiet for a while. Then, Hermione took a few more steps forward and turned. “He’s wrong.” She let her words sink in, and I wondered exactly what she was denying. “There _will_ be a war. If all of us are brave enough to make it happen. And we are. All of us. Not just the Gryffindors. We need everyone. A war against evil needs all kinds of strength. So, _please_. Stand together with me.”  
  
I couldn’t understand how, after such a personal attack from the voice of her lover, Hermione could stand so strong. I would never have been so bold as to face the crowd alone. But she wasn’t alone for long. Ginny walked forward to stand next to Hermione. Longbottom and Luna followed just behind. Soon, most of Gryffindor House was up at the front of the crowd along with scattered other students and all of the staff. Many people still stood where they’d started, now deep in discussion. I glanced back at them. Then, I walked forward to stand near Hermione. The crowd stilled their conversation, shocked.  
  
Hermione looked at me. Her lips twitched, but I couldn’t be sure if she was trying to smile. I just wanted that to be true. I looked back at the crowd. They stared back at me.  
  
Ginny moved in front of me, sending me a mixed glance in the process. “Stand together!” she shouted. “All of us as one!”  
  


  
_I hate how he started the greatest wizard war in history._   


  
  
The crowd cheered, adding in calls of excitement. Only my fellow Slytherins were quiet. All of them seemed to be staring past Ginny, straight at me. Pansy looked like she wanted to strike me down, right then and there. But she wouldn’t. Slytherins waited and calculated their moves. I knew once the crowd had dispersed, more of them would come forward, wanting to fight. But it would be a small group. Most of them would be too scared. They’d decide to stick with the strongest. Or with their parents’ values. Or with any group that wasn’t led by a muggleborn Gryffindor.  
  
“All right!” McGonagall said, finally taking over. “Now, before we initiate any _war_ , we have more pressing issues. The staff and I have discussed it, and the school will be closing for the foreseeable future. All of you, who are as of yet underage, will send an owl to your parents. Tell them what has happened. And that the school will be closing after the – the funeral. Now, back to your common rooms.”  
  
The students shuffled out slowly. I noticed for the first time all of the young ones, looking scared to death. I thought back to my own early years at Hogwarts. All the stupid shit that had scared me. I had no idea what they were facing. But I didn’t have enough in me to worry.  
  
Once everyone was gone, besides some of the staff and the five of us, McGonagall turned to Hermione. “My Dear Hermione,” she said, her face and voice giving away the depth of her grief. “I am so sorry.”  
  
Hermione nodded weakly. Then, in a moment of vulnerability for the two strong witches, they embraced. And Hermione let out a few sobs into her mentor’s robes. My heart twitched and ached alone.  
  
“We’re here for you, Hermione,” Longbottom said, after a moment.  
  
She turned to face her three friends and smiled weakly. “Thank you.”  
  
“I must alert the Order,” McGonagall said. “They’ll – well, I expect we’ll gather here. We’ll need to make preparations for the funeral. And then…”  
  
Hermione nodded again. “I should check on the Gryffindors. Make sure they’re writing their letters.”  
  
“I’ll do it,” Ginny said. “You should rest.”  
  
“I don’t want to rest,” Hermione protested. “And I’m… I’m Head Girl.”  
  
Everyone was quiet. I remembered back to how much she’d wanted it. How much that position, this school, meant to her. And now, because of one - _completely fucking mental_ \- coward of a Head Boy, the Headmaster, not to mention her best friends, were dead. The school was closing. And a war was starting.  
  
I felt absolutely sick with myself.  
  
McGonagall set a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “You have a lot to prepare for, Hermione. Please, don’t carry the burden on your own. I know from experience that is not the right path to walk.”  
  
“I… okay,” Hermione said, quietly.  
  
McGonagall gave the faintest of smiles, then left us. The remaining staff followed her out.  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” Ginny said. “Don’t worry.” She gave her friend a short hug, glanced angrily my way, then left as well.  
  
“We’ll walk you back to the hospital wing,” Longbottom offered.  
  
“I don’t want to go back there,” Hermione said.  
  
“But you just said-”  
  
“Not yet,” Hermione amended.  
  
“Then, we’ll stay,” Longbottom said.  
  
“Please, I want to be alone,” Hermione said. “Just… go help Ginny, okay?”  
  
“I’m not going,” Longbottom said, looking defiantly at me.  
  
“Come on,” Luna beckoned, taking his arm. “Let’s leave them alone.”  
  
“But he -” Longbottom frowned, but he let himself be led away. “I’ll be back,” he said, as a warning. I caught myself smirking at his weak threat, before I could stop myself.  
  
Hermione turned to me, when they were gone. I think she knew I wouldn’t leave her. Though she couldn’t know quite why.  
  
“I couldn’t believe it,” she said, quietly.  
  
“What?” I asked. There was so much to not believe about the past few weeks.  
  
“You,” she said.  
  
I stiffened. “What?” I said again, scared of the answer this time.  
  
“You came up here,” Hermione explained. I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head, trying to figure me out. “Alone. You were the only Slytherin who did.”  
  
“There will be more,” I told her. “They were just scared to break out of the group. But… don’t get your hopes up.”  
  
“And _you_ weren’t scared,” Hermione said. Was it an observation or a question? I couldn’t tell.  
  
“I’ve already broken away,” I said. “Haven’t felt like a part of them… a part of anything… in a long time.”  
  
“You’re not one of us either,” Hermione said, flatly.  
  
“Like I don’t know that,” I laughed, darkly.  
  


  
_I hate how you threatened to kill me if I joined Potter… not that I would have._   


  
  
  
“Remember what I said,” Hermione whispered. “I’m only letting you live so you can fight.”  
  
“I know,” I said. My voice sounded weird. Disappointed. Pathetic.  
  
Hermione noticed it, too. “I…”  
  
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Hermione Granger,” I grumbled.  
  
“I don’t,” Hermione said. But she was lying. “You made this bed for yourself.”  
  
Why, in this tense moment, did some part of me want to remind her that the house elves were the ones who made the beds around here? “You’re right.”  
  
Hermione shook her head slowly and walked towards me. For one crazy minute, my heart wanted to explode out of my chest. To take us both down in a blaze of hatred and passion. I’d never related to Fire so much before in my life. But how odd, in turn, to see Hermione so composed and collected and _cold_. “Don’t let me down. Don’t make me regret sparing your life.”  
  
“You won’t,” I said. This time, she did smile – or smirk – in return. And my blazing heart couldn’t help but create the wildest hope that someday it would be more than that.  
  
I really was mental.


End file.
